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<^CiA?v^^7K> iAr&'hn.Kru 



MEMOIR 



OP 



HENRY ARMITT BROWN, 



TOGETHER WITH 



FOUR HISTORICAL ORATIONS. 



EDITED BY J. 31. liOPPIN, 

PKOFESSOR IN VALE COLLEGE. 



f/S 






ftr. 1879. .q5 



PHILADELPHIA: 

J. B. LIPPIISrCOTT & CO. 

Lo>rDON : 16 Southamptox Street, Covent Garden. 
1880. 



E 



Copyright, 1879, by Josephine Lea Brown. 



PEEFAOE. 



Political wisdom fails sometimes to perceive and 
make use of the fact that the spring of a nation's pro- 
gress is in its youth's fresh ideas; for they are inspira- 
tions from a fountain nearer the original source of national 
life than the profoundest theories of scientific statesman- 
ship. Youth's radicalism has more than once proved to 
be the principle of the rapid advancement of a people in 
freedom and civilization. 

The subject of the following memoir possessed elements 
of greatness worthy of the best days of the republic. A 
power went forth from his short life (for he was compara- 
tively a young man when he died) which will not soon 
cease to be felt. It was an influence for the political refor- 
mation of the land, and for a higher standard of national 
character. He represented, as far as in him lay, the best 
modern political spirit. Nobly as he had done, there 
seemed to be much more for him to do. Although his 
life's work was in some sense complete, he had not yet 
attained the full development of his powers. He attracted 
the eyes of men by his splendid promise. His life had 
a direction toward something lofty, rare, and beautiful, 

3 



4 PREFACE. 

aud which, too, was all unspent when it suddenly reached 
its close. The star was still ascending when the darkness 
covered it. His addresses and writings will, we are sure, 
do much to perpetuate his name. There are really few 
things in our historical literature superior to his Carpenters' 
Hall, Burlington Bi-Centennial, and Valley Forge orations. 
But the fire and nobleness of his delivery, the music of his 
voice, the charm of his unsurpassed oratory, these are gone 
forever. 

J. M. H. 

New Haven, November, 1879. 



COKTEE"TS. 



PAGE 

Memoir of Henrt: Armitt Brown 9 

Historical Orations : 

Oration delivered in Carpenters' Hall, Philadelphia, on the 
One Hundredth Anniversary of the Meeting of the Con- 
gress of 1774 213 

" The Settlement of Burlington." An Oration delivered in 
that City December 6, 1877, in Commemoration of the Two 
Hundredth Anniversary of its Settlement .... 251 

Oration at Valley Forge, June 19, 1878, the One Hundredth 
Anniversary of the Departure of the Army of the Kevo- 
lution from Winter Quarters at that place . . . 301 

Oration composed to be delivered at Freehold, New Jersey, 
June 28, 1878, the One Hundredth Anniversary of the 

Battle of Monmouth 349 

5 



MEMOIR. 



I 



MEMOIR 



OF 



HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 



James Browne,* from'wiiom the subject of this biog- 
rapliy was the seventh in descent, was one of the colonists 
who came over in " the good ship Kent," and laid out the 
town of Burlington, JSTew Jersey, towards the latter part of 
the eighth month, 1677. This was five years before the 
landing of William Penn and his peaceful company on the 
banks of the Delaware. James Browne was the son of 
Richard and Mary Browne, of Sywell, in Northampton- 
shire, England. His father, Richard, having been con- 
verted to the Quaker doctrine, had removed to Bedfordshire, 
■where the family was living when James, then a young 
man of twenty-one, came to America with others to settle 
on that portion of territory purchased of Lord Berkeley by 
the Society of Friends. 

In 1679, James Browne married Honour Clayton in 
" the primitive meeting-house, made of a sail taken from 
the Kent," being the first marriage recorded in the State 

*The terminal "e" was afterwai-ds dropped to satisfy Quaker 
simplicity. 

2 9 



10 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

of Xew Jersey. He removed from Burlington once more 
" into the Wilderness," dying at Nottingham, Pennsylvania, 
in 1716. His descendants, with the exception of James 
Brown, who, near the close of the last century, returned to 
England and lived on his estate at Snaresbrooiv Manor, in 
the neighborhood of London, were mostly residents of 
Philadelpliia, and fairly represented the mercantile intelli- 
gence, respectability, and wealth of the old Quaker families 
of the " City of Brotherly Love." 

Charles Brockden Brown, author of " Edgar Huntley," 
and, it may be said, the originator of American novel litera- 
ture, who was born in 1771, and died in 1810, belonged to 
this family. He was own uncle of Henry Armitt Brown's 
father, and his grand-nephew, in some points of character, 
strikingly resembled him. They were both men of sen- 
sitive natures, and were both bred to the law ; but having 
early a strong bias toward a literary life and to that of 
political essayists, this literary bent in the case of the first 
drew him away entirely from the legal profession, and in 
the case of the last exerted a powerful influence tliat was 
gradually separating him from his practice at the bar and 
leading him into a broader political career. 

This mild strain of Quaker ancestry was mingled in the 
subject of the present memoir with Revolutionary blood. 
His great-grandfather upon his mother's side, Colonel 
Benjamin Hoppin, of Providence, Rhode Island, passed 
through the seven years of the War of Independence as a 
captain of the Rhode Island Continentals, and was present 
at Princeton, Red Bank, Monmouth, and other battles of 
the Revolution ; while another maternal ancestor, Thomas 
W^eld Philbrook, of Rhode Island, served at Ticonderoga, 
and also suffered incredible hardships on board the "Jersey 
prison-ship." 



CHILDHOOD AND EARLY YOUTH. H 

Henry Armitt Browx was born in Philadelphia, 
December 1, 1844. His father, Frederick Brown, was a 
representative business man in Philadelphia, Avhose character 
for integrity and public spirit need not be enlarged upon, es- 
pecially to those of his townsmen who, for half a century, so 
well knew, and honored, and loved him ; and, although his 
commanding presence is seen no more in the streets, he will 
be long remembered for his geniality and sterling worth. 

Although Henry exhibited mental traits of both parents, 
yet from his mother, whose maiden name was Charlotte 
Augusta Hoppin, it has been remarked by his friends that 
he inherited literary tastes; for such tastes are, perhaps, as 
frequently a matter of temperament as of education. 

He was a sweet-tempered child, delicately strung, and 
extremely sensitive to the touch and sight of harsh things 
as if unfit to be stretched on this rough world, imaginative, 
curious in his questionings, sympathetic and aifectionate, 
but stubborn of will, and apt to see things in a very inde- 
pendent and ludicrously odd light. 

When an older boy, his favorite pastime was studying 
the histories of great battles, especially those of Napoleon, 
and also at the time those of the Crimean war, and in 
arranging and moving companies of tin soldiers and parks 
of artillery according to the changing plans of the battles. 
This play was carried out on so large a scale as to attract 
the attention of the neighbors and of older people to the 
extent of the combinations. One whole portion of the 
garden thus employed would become the scene of a wide 
and hurrying conflict, platoons of soldiers shifting across 
the field, forts blowing up, dwellings in flames, rivers 
crossed, and discharges of artillery from the flying bat- 
teries. " On one occasion," his younger brother relates, 
" I, being the representative Eussian, had to build my 



12 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

tower and raise my parapets in order to prepare for the 
defence of the Malakoff. Hal, as the besieging force, dug 
his intrenchments. We each had little brass cannon, and 
loaded them with one pellet of lead and a few grains of 
powder, attaching to each a train of powder, so that at the 
appointed time the fuse could be lighted, and we could 
step oif and await the result. The attack commenced. 
Harry brought out some forty or fifty of his men as the 
attacking column, and while doing so was endeavoring to 
start his cannon in order to cover and assist them, but his 
punk would not light the fuse. I, however, was more 
fortunate, and trained up my cannon on the assaulting 
column, and the fuse ignited. Three or four of the enemy 
were demolished, and the majority of them knocked down. 
Harry, immediately on surveying the field of battle, said, 
' Well, Lardner, we have reversed history. The Malakoff 
cannot be taken this afternoon. Let us get some dinner.' " 
This boyish play, in fact, grew to be an absorbing passion, 
turning a childish amusement into a thoughtful and fore- 
casting exercise of the reasoning powers; and his early 
taste seems to have long clung to him, for until he was 
fourteen years old his principal ambition in life was to be 
a great captain. His letters were full of military matters, 
organization of companies, marches, and courts-martial, as 
if they were very real things and the fate of empires hung 
on them. He besought his father over and over ao-ain to 
send him to West Point Academy. This throws some 
light upon his character, which, as it sometimes happens, 
beneath an almost feminine delicacy of organization hid a 
nature of sinewy ambition fitted to leadership. 

Harry, even as a child, had a peculiar sense of personal 
dignity, which was disturbed at anything which seemed 
unfairly to lower him in the eyes of others. But he was 



CHILDHOOD AND EARLY YOUTH. 13 

brimful of life, and liis mimiciy of animals and funny 
performances at school were sources of infinite satisfaction 
to his schoolmates, and sometimes the laughter bore away 
on its tide both teacher and scholars. He seemed uncon- 
scious of the pleasure he gave others. Although not domi- 
neering, every one naturally fell under his control. He 
was director of the mock orchestra and captain of the 
juvenile battalion, and also a champion cricket-player, 
difficult as this is to reconcile with his quiet habits in 
after-life. 

His excessive fondness for sport was commenced at an 
early age, when, as a little boy, he brought in the cedar- 
birds and small game in abundance. This love of " gun- 
ning," as we call it in America, was carried into later life, 
and it was increased as he grew older by his love of nature, 
leading him into the woods and fields in rambles, accom- 
panied only by his dogs, or along the picturesque banks 
and silver stretches of the Delaware River, the home of 
the duck and the little reed-bird, and the habitation of 
innumerable bright plants and flowers. 

Like most lively boys he fell to rhyming, inditing verses 
to the young ladies at the Burlington St. jNIary's School, 
or lampooning " ye unpopular tutor," or writing burning 
patriotic odes, or composing German ballads "in the 
manner of Longfellow or some other fellow." Some of 
these effusions in point of lively wit were quite up to the 
mark of juvenile i)erformances of most of the great poets 
that are published. 

His first instructor, outside of home walls, was Miss 
Lucy A. Lerned, who taught school in the basement of 
St. Luke's Church, in Philadelphia. A warm, mutual 
esteem was always kept up between teacher and scholar, 
as their correspondence shows. Harry's later school-days 



14 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

were passed at the Burlington Academy and at the board- 
ing-school of Dr. James Gilborne Lyons, in Haverford, 
Pennsylvania. He began to study Latin at the age of 
seven, and obtained a " first honor" in the summer term 
of 1853; and when he went to college, his master, Dr. 
Lyons, wrote a letter, in which he speaks of him as " a 
student of industrious habits and good abilities." He 
appears to have taken captive his instructors, not only by 
his faithfulness to his studies, but by his exceedingly win- 
ning qualities of heart, for they follow his career with 
words of affectionate praise. 

He came up to be examined for admission to Yale Col- 
lege in July, 1861, an unspoiled youth. If truthfulness, 
sincerity, and purity were ever exj)ressed in a countenance, 
they shone on his open brow. Yet it was a thoughtful 
and serious face. His great, blue eyes asked searching 
questions of all. Then, as always, he looked at you 
steadily, and grasped your hand with a firm grasp. He 
seemed at first to be half-amusingly and half-actually dazed 
by the new responsibilities and, to him, immense vistas of 
a great college, but it was not long before he cast himself 
into the current of student life with an unbounded ardor. 
He here found a congenial field for his varied talents. It 
Avas into the brotherhood of young men he had come, and 
his sympathies went out to all in whom he recognized an 
honorable and sympathetic heart. There has not been 
graduated for a long period — perhaps never, socially — a 
more thorough-bred Yale student, one inspired by a more 
genuine college spirit, who more whole-heartedly identified 
himself with college life, and who infused into that life a 
more genial influence, than he of whom we write. Though 
both were jiopular men, the true Harry Brown of Yale 



COLLEGE LIFE. 15 

was a vastly liigher order of student than the fictitious 
Tom Brown of Oxford. This is the testimony of his 
classmates, and his college career is too recent for us to 
forget it. 

He was soon felt to be a social and, in some points of 
view, intellectual power in college, — a leaven to leaven the 
whole with the enthusiasm for true brotherhood. While 
more ambitious of class than of scholarly distinction, there 
was no envy or spirit of intrigue about him. He never 
Avrought nor wriggled himself into an influential position. 
Whatever honors he won were freely accorded to him. 
While he did not make a positive mark as a scholar, he 
succeeded in obtaining an excellent intellectual discipline. 
Yale did wonders for him. He did not lose sight of this 
object. He gained more from his college course than 
many higher-stand men in substantial improvement. He 
had " sensibility," which, Emerson says, is even better than 
talent ; and he had also a remarkable power of intellectual 
appreciativeness, though not always operating in regular 
Avays. In merriest and maddest moods he studied his own 
powers, his mental aptitudes, the character of his instruc- 
tors and companions, and the best methods of influencing 
men. The jest was succeeded by the thoughtful mood and 
by the air of intense abstraction. Those deep-sunk, glow- 
ing eyes underneath the square, bold forehead did not be- 
speak a frivolous nature. Concentration, intense purpose, 
were strongly marked. As in the legend of taking Calais 
castle by disguised English knights, under the silken robe 
was hid the coat of mail. He was already preparing him- 
self for life. He read much, but independently and rather 
scatteringly. He was fond of the classics, — the Latin poets 
especially, — and also of history, of political economy, and, 
to a certain extent, of philosophy, so that the studies of 



16 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARM ITT BROWN. 

Senior year were particularly agreeable to him. But he was 
soon recognized as an oif-hand speaker, — lithe, graceful, 
never at a loss for something witty, brilliant, and telling. 

Some irregularity into which he was led by an un tem- 
pered zeal for college customs (many of them more to be 
honored in the breach than the observance), caused him to 
spend a part of Sophomore year in seclusion, which, how- 
ever, in his case, did not hurt him in the estimation of his 
classmates, nor, it might be said, of his instructors, for the 
reason that no moral taint was ever breathed upon him. 
He was no rioter or deep drinker. His life was irreproach- 
able, and his sense of honor exquisite. 

When fun was in order he was assuredly " Master of the 
Revels." As humorist there was no end to his exuberant 
drollery, his sportive fancies, and his witty invention. The 
"Pow-wow" of June 7, 1862, in which he largely partici- 
pated, will ever be memorable as being the best of its kind. 
The motley chorus of his racy songs roared by the throats 
of sturdy Sophomores struck the level of the occasion much 
better than something more fine would have done. In 
resolutions drafted by class committees ; in speeches de- 
livered at class suppers; in Delta Kappa, Alpha Sigma 
Phi, and Psi Upsilon lyrics ; in debates and war-songs of 
the Brothers in Unity; in the organization and carry- 
ing out the Thanksgiving Jubilees of Sophomore, Junior, 
and Senior years ; and, above all, as one of the illustrious 
" Cochleaureati" in the now defunct " Wooden Spoon" 
celebration, his pen and voice were foremost. He was class 
Mercury and Apollo — orator and poet. He was Momus 
too. His acting was excellent in every role, comic, tragic, 
and sentimental, and was much j^raised. A newspaper 
writer thus spoke of it in noticing the " Wooden Sjjoon" 
exhibition of June, 18G5 : "The colloquy of Virginia did 



COLLEGE LIFE. 17 

not refer to the unfortunate State somewhere down South, 
but was a comic rendering of the old tragedy of Virginius. 
Tlie author, Henry A. Brown, of Philadelphia, is the best 
actor in the college, and personated old Virginius to per- 
fection." Another said : " The announced poem by Plenry 
A. Brown was omitted on account of the lateness of the 
hour, much to the regret of the audience, as Mr. Brown's 
poetical talents are widely known in New Haven, and are 
of no common order. Two of the songs of the occasion 
are from his pen, and are sufficient evidence of his superi- 
ority in this line." 

The " Wooden Spoon," as is known to those acquainted 
with Yale life, was originally a grotesque custom instituted 
as an award to the biggest eater, but it had lost its coarse 
associations, and came to be highly prized by the students 
as conferring social distinction upon those who received it. 
They were the most popular men in the class, and who de- 
served to be so because they were men of genuine kindness 
and unselfish character, who, sunny-hearted themselves, 
made " sunshine in a shady place" to others, — in a word, 
they were heart-crowned. Well did Harry Brown merit 
this unrecorded college honor ; and the big wooden spoon, 
wreathed with ivy, now hanging on the wall of his silent 
study, is a memento that to his old friends would ever speak 
pathetically. The heart's fruits are unfading. In no evil 
sense, but, as time went on, in a true sense, and bearing 
many a divine fruit, he held to the poet's words, though put 
in cynic lips, — 

" Und gr'un cles Lehens goldner Baumy 

In the November (1864) number of the Yale Literary 
3Iagazme, Harry Brown contributed a versified story en- 
titled "The Lady of Katzenjammer," in the style of the 



18 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

" Ingoklsby Legends," — a very clever performance, com- 
mencing and travelling on in the free-swinging pace of 
those rollicking Irish poems. Indeed, much of his intel- 
lectual energy was spent in these literary excursions and 
by-paths, and especially in the life of student societies. 

At a time when Yale was swarming with societies, open 
and secret, partly derived from the German universities 
and the old customs of the Burschen Pennalism, and partly 
a home product, Harry Brown was a great Society man. 
The societies did much for him, perhaps more than they 
would do for a hundred other men of diflPerent mental 
make. They were most assuredly not an " unmixed evil" 
in his case. 

It will not be denied that our American university sys- 
tem, which, in some respects, is the child of our Avants 
and a truly marvellous result of our civilization, is not 
as yet ideally j)erfect or practically complete. The old 
system, which had some excellent features and turned out 
men of strong individuality, is giving way to the new, while 
the new is not yet attained. We are in a transition, and 
thus chaotic state. We aim at the universal and fail in the 
particular. We glorify and perfect the system, and leave 
the subject of it imperfectly educated. Too much is at- 
tempted for it to be thoroughly done. The result, there- 
fore, is sciolism rather than science. It is like grasping 
too large a handful of which little or nothing remains in 
the hand. " Modern education," another says, " is the 
beginning of many things, and it is little more than a be- 
ginning." It certainly becomes a serious question whether 
an elementary knowledge of many things is worth as much 
as the mastery of one rugged art, which necessitates such 
a toughening of the mental fibre as to enable the student to 
grasp any subject. Power balanced by character is the 



COLLEGE LIFE. 19 

highest aim of education. The culture that teaches the 
mind its uses, that gives capacity for affairs, tliat develops a 
harmonious and vigorous personality, should be the common 
resultant of the various forces of a university education. 
Mere specific training of one set of faculties is not the theory 
of a scientific education. The severest discipline of the critical 
powers, or of the memory, which goes to make scholars, 
and is of the utmost value in laying the foundation of a 
true, intellectual training, leaves untouched some of the 
richest parts of the manifold nature of man, the aesthetic 
and moral powers wherein, more than in others, potential 
manhood exists. " Experience has shown that the intel- 
lectual qualities which insure success in the discovery of 
truth are rarely combined with the qualities which lend 
these truths their greatest practical efficiency. The habits 
of the study are not the best discipline for affairs," This 
truth, so tersely put by one of our younger writers on edu- 
cational matters, should be a hint to those who desire to 
make a university system of education the most practically 
effective as well as the most thoroughly scholar-like. The 
waste of mind is too great a price to pay for the experiment 
of theories. "Culture," says Principal Shairp,* "is not 
the product of mere study. Learning may be got from 
books, but not culture. It is a more living process, and 
requires that the student at times should close his books, 
leave his room, and mingle with his fellow-men. He must 
seek the intercourse of living hearts, especially in the com- 
panionship of his own contemporaries, whose minds tend 
to elevate and sweeten his own. It is also a method of 
self-discipline, the learning of self-control, the fixing of 
habits, the effort to overcome what is evil, and to strengthen 

* Now Professor of Poetry at Oxford. 



20 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

what is good in our nature." It is laying the plan of life 
in human intercourse, in the knowledge of human nature, 
in self-knowledge, in self-reliance, in thought as in study. 
It is the drawing out of the energies in strife with living 
forces, wherein what is slavish and useless is stripped away 
and a free manhood is the result. We once came across an 
officer, high in rank in the American army, who had dis- 
tinguished himself in the last war for his business capacity 
as well as gallantry in the field, — by brains as well as 
bravery, — who, in a familiar conversation upon a hotel 
stoop, remarked, emphatically, that the qualities and acts 
which won him success in his professional life were just 
those which caused his expulsion from college. This was 
putting the matter in a way where truth is sacrificed to 
point ; but it is a question whether such a man, or a man 
powerful in another career, like Henry Armitt Brown, 
would have been what either of them was if they had re- 
stricted themselves entirely to the prescribed course, and 
had been mere scholars while in college, or continued to be 
mere scholars out of it. It seems, sometimes, to be regretted 
that such force could not earlier be recognized and turned 
into right channels. These men, in their secret heart, 
lamented the time they may have spent in social life that 
should have been given to thorough study : nor would 
severe scholarship have done them more injury than polish 
a steel blade ; but to do what they and other manly intel- 
lects ought to do, and do it well, requires a longer time than 
four crowded years, and a broader, scholarly ^preparation for 
college, with a more free and professional coui'se of study 
in the university, ending in a definite concentration upon 
some department of study best suited to their powers. 
This should be accomplished by the culture of their varied 
capacities, none of which should be starved with meagre 



COLLEGE LIFE. 21 

diet, but, by being generously nourished, should develop 
them into knowledgeable, genial, alert, strong, and useful 
men, fitted to serve the State in any position to which they 
might be called ; for, though we would not entirely give 
in to the Socratic axiom that the highest good of life is 
" practical wisdom," yet a wisdom which is unserviceable to 
living is but a transcendental philosophy. In these remarks 
no encouragement is meant to be given to the neglect of 
scholarly duties, for the university is the place where schol- 
arship is the duty and the inexpressible privilege nevet* to 
be regained if lost. Not that good scholars are always 
made in college (for it is a lamentable fact that they are 
not), but M'hile there should be good scholarship, if our 
colleges could turn out ready men as well as ready scholars, — 
serviceable men, — who are " a measure and rule to them- 
selves," as fit for the pursuits of public life as for critical 
research in private study, it would be a marvellous gain. 
This, perhaps, is what Matthew Arnold and other writers 
mean when they vote that Greek shall not be a condition 
to entering the university ; not that Greek is not a grand 
attainment for a man and a gentleman, which nothing else, 
and certainly no modern language, can take the place of, 
but that the man should come before the scholar. 

There is another dantrer difficult to define threatening our 
universities, in which we seem to hear the warning voice of 
a man so full of earnest purpose as was the Armitt Brown 
of Yale days, — of ardent glow of manly intellect, however 
irregular its flashes. The athletic epoch, chastened in his 
time, has had its uses ; it was a much needed reform ; it 
has done great good and will do more ; but it were a 
lamentable triumph if, while it brought back the Greek 
type of physical strength, it quenched the Greek type of 
mental force. The roystering muscularity of a vast deal 



22 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

of English modern university life bordering on the brutal 
we would by no means have transferred to the American 
college. 

" I past beside the reverend walls 

In which of old I wore the gown ; 
And roved at random thro' the town, 
And saw the tumult of the halls; 

" And heard once more in college fanes 

The storm their high-built organs make, 
And thunder-music, rolling, shake 
The prophets blazoned on the panes ; 

" And caught once more the distant shout. 
The measured pulse of racing oars 
Among the willows ; paced the shores 
And many a bridge, and all about 

" The same gray flats again, and felt 

The same but not the same ; and last 
Up that long walk of limes I past 
To see the rooms in which he dwelt. 

" Another name was on the door; 
I linger'd ; all within was noise 
Of songs, and clapping hands, and boys 
That crash'd the glass and beat the floor ; 

" Where once we held debate, a b.and 

Of youthful friends, on mind and art, 
And labor, and the changing mart. 
And all the framework of the land."* 

It is often said that young men at college learn more 
from each other than they do from their teachers. Harry 
Brown, who, at an impressionable age, possessed in an un- 

* Tennyson's " In Memoriam," Ixxxvi. 



I 



COLLEGE LIFE. 23 

common degree the capacity of friendship, as also the pas- 
sion of hero-worship, was keenly alive to the inflnence of 
his college-mates, since from the nobility of his soul he 
recognized what there was of superiority in them, and this 
good he constantly drew from by a manly friendship. 

There was one classmate who exercised a supreme power 
— it might be called fascination — over him, and who, in 
fact, was the worshipped idol of his soul. Joseph Apple- 
ton Bent was a man whose intellect consumed his body, 
and while the flame burned it was with excessive bright- 
ness. It was electric lio;ht too bright to last. In the 
history of the class of '65 Harry Brown pays a hearty 
tribute to the memory of his friend, who died three years 
after graduation, having already made his mark as a lawyer 
and orator. 

There was a sympathy between these two young men 
that enabled Harry to know his friend. His slumbering 
energies, and the final direction that their activity took, 
were fired by the inspiration of Bent's genius acting on a 
kindred spirit; and this influence, as is sometimes the case 
with contemplative men who have lost the heart-friends of 
their youth, continued to hover over him like a light, like 
a spiritual presence. What follows may seem to be an 
enthusiastic tribute, but Bent, tried by any true standard, 
was no common man, as he was not who thus eulogizes 
and laments him as David did Jonathan. 

" His style of speaking varied with each occasion, and seemed 
naturally to adapt itself to all. He could be grave or gay, witty or 
serious, solemn or animated, with equal grace; and there was, at 
all times, a stateliness in his manner and a reserve of power remark- 
able in one so young. His readiness and skill in debate were unsur- 
passed. Brilliant as he was in attack, he was greatest in reply, and 
to more than one of his admiring hearers, his slender form, sloping 
shoulders, high forehead, and long straight nose bore a striking 



24 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

resemblance to the poi'traits of the younger Pitt, while his stately 
manner and sonorous voice seemed to complete the likeness. It 
may, perhaps, be thought that the impression which he made upon 
his associates was deepened by their youth and enthusiasm, and that 
their high opinion of his powers might not have been confirmed by 
the judgment of maturer years. To a limited extent, no doubt, the 
first remark is true; but Bent's powers may be judged, not only by 
comparison with those of the foremost of his contemporaries, whom 
he so far excelled, but by that highest test of the orator, the effect 
which they produced on so many occasions in and out of college. 
He often turned the balance of a question and carried a point against 
what was, at the outset, a hostile sentiment. His speaking not only 
controlled the feelings and charmed the ear, but it changed convic- 
tion and overcame the Avill ; and, if it be objected that the one was 
perhaps not the strongest, nor the other the most fixed, it may be 
added that his was a mind which to a remarkable degree was sus- 
ceptible of continuous and healthful growth, and his powers would, 
without doubt, have kept more than equal pace with the years. No 
one who has seen him in the full exercise of his gi'eat gift can doubt 
that, when he died, a light was quenched that burned with the fire 
of real genius. 

'' Borri as he was for leadership, keeping ever from earliest boy- 
hood before the eyes of men, his true character was not always appre- 
ciated. He had a natural shyness which took the form of reserve, 
and many thought him cold. This was a great mistake. To those 
whom he admitted into his affections there was no friendship warmer 
or more sincere than his, and no one had to a larger extent than he 
the fiiculty of grappling to his own the hearts of others. The class 
was proud of his reputation ; the world in general admired, but his 
friends loved him. To most, even of his classmates, he Avas the 
skilful politician, the graceful writer, the brilliant wit, the unrivalled 
orator; but to the few to whom he revealed himself, he was the rare 
companion, the true and tender-hearted friend. 

"And in that chai'acter I, who write these lines, which do his 
memory such scanty justice, love best to think of him. I am not 
able, even now, to feel that Joe Bent is dead. Five years of close 
companionship growing ever closer, — of friendship, strengthening 
with each day, gave him a hold upon my heart which Death itself 
has not had power to break. Across the interval of twice that length 



COLLEGE LIFE. 25 

of time the face and figure of my early friend rise, often, now before 
my eyes. I see that slender form erect, — one foot advanced, — the 
head thrown back, — the long right arm outstretched with open hand, 
sweeping the air Avith graceful gesture, — the cheek flushed with 
excitement, — the eye flashing beneath the smooth white brow, — the 
short lip curling with the pride of conscious power, — and on my ear 
seems still to fall the ring of that inspiring voice ! Oftener still, I 
walk with him in the busy street and hear the shrewd, epigrammatic 
comment on men and things. I sit beside him in some quiet place 
and go over again the thousand great schemes for the future of which 
his mind was full. We talk — we laugh — we argue — we debate ; — 
just as we used to do so long ago. I share in all these hopes and fears 
of his ; he enters into mine. Nor can he change. I may grow old 
and alter, but Death has conferred on him for me immortal youth. 

" Ten years have passed since we left old Yale together, — seven 
since we parted not to meet again : new ties have bound me ; new 
friends won my regard ; new associations formed around my path ; — 
but thy place cannot be taken by another, nor shall my heart forget 
thee, my friend." 

Both these brilliant careers have been quenched, yet the 
harmony of their lives and the memory of their friendship, 
and the incitement of their manly ambition to lead men up 
to something higher, and their country on to something 
better, burn in many hearts. 

Harry Brown was chosen to be the class poet, a sub- 
stantial tribute to his popularity, if not to his poetical 
genius. He had a vein of true poetry in him, but it is 
rare that poetry " made to order" is of high order. Lau- 
relled Tennyson drops a leaflet or two from his crown 
when he writes a laureate ode. The poem delivered so 
gracefully on Presentation Day, 1865, was not adjudged to 
be below the mark of such performances, perhaps al)ove 
the ordinary standard, and, with excellent taste, it was 
natural and sincere, without attempting the sublime. His 
classmates were satisfied that a great poet had spoken, and 
what more could be asked ? It was altogether an interest- 

3 



26 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

iug commencement season, tliat of 1865; and the regatta 
at Worcester and Yale's naval victory, counting in time 
seventeen minutes forty-two and a half seconds, in which 
another of his classmates, AVilbur Russell Bacon, distin- 
guished himself as stroke-oar, illusti*ating the strenuous 
motto of the class, Oo XoyoKn 'all ipyoutji, added to the 
glories of the occasion. At this commencement occurred 
the ever-memorable patriotic memorial of Yale's dead 
soldiers, at which William Evarts presided and Horace 
Bushnell spoke. 

Henry Armitt was also selected to be one of the class 
historians, a more honorable than, it would seem to be, 
desirable office, and while, as is the custom at this occasion, 
he thrust men througli and through with his historic blade, 
he also managed to bring them to life again and to make 
them laugh heartily without making them angry ; for his 
wit was not that sort of which Jeremy Taylor speaks, 
"which hath teeth and nails to bite and devour thy 
brother." His graceful little " Ivy Song," sung by the 
class under the walls of the library building, fitly closes 
his college career with its thoughtful ending. 

He spoke afterwards thus humorously of his class at 
their triennial meeting : 

" It may not be known to you, ladies and gentlemen, that the 
class of '65 was always a remarkable class. It is true we were 
not distinguished for accurate scholarsliip. I remember on one 
occasion a prize was offered to us, but there was no mathematician 
in our class to claim it. For the class of '65 turned to other things 
the attention which some of its predecessors had given to mathe- 
matics, and the only mathematicians among us are certain of our 
married brethren, who have made examples of themselves by 
coming here to-night increased to two, and some of them with one 
to carry. No, we were never distinguished for our scholarship. 
In calculus we found incalculable trouble; conies delighted us not; 



COLLEGE LIFE. 27 

we saw nothing to admire in analytics but its first two syllables. 
"We knew little Latin and less Greek. We sought to read the stars 
by other methods than those which astronomy teaches, and we were 
more familiar with the courts of the Areopagus than with the 
philosophy of the Academy. We were, in fact, the Samaritans of 
the college, for ' we feared the faculty, and served our own gods.' " 

If there be truth in this jesting language, both as respects 
others and himself, it is a wrong judgment to suppose that 
in the speaker's case the stern nurse, Yale, did nothing for 
his real growth. This has been emphatically denied. On 
the contrary, she did everything. No college in the land 
could have done better for him. Where he seemed careless 
he drew constant nourishment and strength. It was at 
Yale that he acquired the power to think, to write, and to 
speak, — three great acquisitions for a man. But, as has 
been said, he learned what he did in pretty much his own 
methods, seeking what he thought he needed most, not 
always judging rightly, but retaining his individuality, and 
steadily, even obstinately, refusing to be run into the 
common mould. The teachers who nourished, for better 
or worse, the intellectual young men at that time, w^ere 
Motley, Macaulay, Emerson, Matthew Arnold, Herbert 
Spencer, and John Stuart Mill. It was then, as now, a 
conflict of free thought, but of transition, we believe, to a 
higher or more productive philosophy. It was also then, 
at Yale, about the beginning of the struggle {Kulturhampf) 
after a broader literary and scientific culture than had 
before existed. Thackeray bore away the palm from 
Chauvenet, and Auerbach from Ueberweg ; but no young 
man of good mind could remain during a college course, 
under the solid training of President Woolsey and other 
instructors of old Yale, Avithout gaining sturdy intel- 
lectual growth, enriched scientific knowledge, and disci- 



28 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

plined habits of mind. The career of Henry Armitt 
Brown after leaving college confirms this assertion ; and 
if his Alma Mater has reason to be proud of him, he 
often expressed himself as proud of her, and he was ever 
a most loyal son of Yale. 

We made a reference to the triennial meeting of the 
class of '65, at which meeting Harry acted as chairman, 
and, as this in some sense belongs to the period of college 
life, although it is anticipating three years, we will speak 
of it here again. It was held in New Haven, July 22, 
1868, and just sixty-five of the members were present and 
sat down to dinner. Harry presided with genial dignity, 
wit, and grace. The " silver cup presentation" to tlie first- 
born child of the class formed not the least interesting and 
mirth-provoking part of the doings of the evening. The 
president introduced the ceremony with some happy words. 
The " Cup Song," in honor of the " class-boy," the son of 
Henry Clay McCreary, of California, was sung with hearti- 
ness. We give it as a reminiscence of college days and of 
Yale customs, which, perhajis, to some readers, may be novel 
and will amuse them : 

SONG. 

BY HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

Air — '■'John Brown's Bodyy 

Like bees with honey laden that are crowding to their hives, 

We have gathered here to-night, my friends, our children and our 

wives, 
To make a little noise, if ne'er before in all our lives, 
For Yale and Sixty-five. 

Chorus. — Glory, glory, hallelujah, etc. 

We have longed to see this evening since our Freshman year began. 
And how often have we wondered which of us would lead the van : 



COLLEGE LIFE. 29 

But to-night the question's settled and McCreary is the man ! 
Hurrah for Sixty-five! 
Choms. 

You're a lucky man, McCreary, and honor you we should ; 
You've done us all great credit, and the best a fellow could. 
There are some of us yet single, — your example will do good 
To your friends of Sixty-five. 
Chorus. 

We all one day will follow in the course that you have run, 
And if Fortune smiles upon us, we shall do as you have done ; 
And each one ere his setting see the rising of his son, 
Like this boy of Sixty-five. 
Cliorus. 

Then fill your glasses, classmates, for a bumper; while ye sup 
Give three cheers for McCreary and his lady ! shake it up ! ! 
All honor to the fellow who has won the silver cup 
Of the class of Sixty-five ! ! ! 
Chorus. 

May the God who watches o'er us smile on the little boy, 
Pour in this cup His blessings till it runneth o'er with joy, 
And make his years like links of gold, untarnished with alloy. 
Is the prayer of Sixty-five. 
Chorus. 

Accept, then, blessed baby, in the name of Mother Yale, 
Your hundred uncles' loving gift; grow noble, brave, and hale; 
And when you quaff its contents, may remembrance never fail 
Of Yale and Sixty-five. 
Chorus. 

May it keep your head forever clear, your heart forever true ; 
And as long as you will stick to it, be sure we'll stick to you ; 
And now, you small McCreary, we'll give three times three for you, 
Cup-boy of Sixty-five ! 
Chorus. 



30 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARM ITT BROWN. 

We cannot leave Hany Bro^yn's college life without 
giving an extract or two from a letter of one of his own 
classmates and most intimate friends : 

" Harry, while in college, studied the languages with an 
appreciation and enjoyment that belonged to no one else in 
the class. This was evidenced by the thorough familiarity 
with the style of each author, by the ease with which he 
could, at any time, recall passages remarkable for some fine 
shade of thought, imagery, or delicacy of expression. He 
would often astonish us by quoting at length, and with no 
hesitation whatever, from Homer or from the Latin poets, 
and when we expressed surprise and asked how he could 
recall them, he would answer that he did not kno\v, and 
that he did it with no effort. He was particularly fond of 
Horace, and apt at repeating passages from him. These 
quotations were never for show, but always came in pat, 
suggested by some little every-day happening. From the 
study of other branches, such as metaphysics, history of 
English literature, and of civilization, political economy, 
etc., I know he acquired great good, and why he did not 
show this in his recitations to a greater degree I never 
could quite understand. I have thought that perhaps it 
might be that he grasped principles rather than the words 
and detail with which they were expounded by an author. 
Then, too, we know that he was strikingly original, — fond 
of following up his own thoughts, — and no doubt often, 
when he sat down with his Wayland, his Hamilton, or 
Hopkins, would find himself thinking in directions sug- 
gested by what he read, rather than mastering what he read 
with special reference to a recitation. 

" He was a keen observer of human nature, and he 
caught intuitively the peculiarities of mind and character 
of each of his classmates. Recognizino; this, we made him 



COLLEGE LIFE. 31 

one of our class historians, and a better choice could not 
have been made. Wiien on Presentation Day he rose to 
read what he had written, there came a treat to those who 
heard, which will always be remembered. 

" He had a quick sense of the ridiculous, and a vein of 
quiet humor that enlivened all his talk and writing. He 
enjoyed exercising this gift, aiid might have done so in 
after-life to the expense of the higher fame which he 
achieved, but for an incident which, I believe, changed his 
current. A rather heavy subject for composition had been 
given out, and when he was called upon he read a produc- 
tion which from beginning to end kept the class in un- 
controllable merriment. Our instructor, however, partly 
because he considered the proprieties violated, and partly 
because he saw the danger that the gift of wit brings to the 
bright mind by the temptation to indulge it at the cost of 
higher faculties, criticised him severely. Being of an ex- 
ceedino;lv sensitive nature he took the thino; to heart, as 
was shown by the restraint he placed upon himself in all 
class exercises of like nature afterwards, Not long before 
his death, and when he was in the midst of his fame, he 
complained to me that he had entirely lost this old-time 
appreciation of humor ; but he was wrong here. His let- 
ters and his conversation always sparkled with wit, as did 
his response to the toast, ' The Junior Members of the 
Bar.' His standard was simply higher, and his themes 
were of too noble and heroic a character to admit of its 
indulgence. 

" I remember Harry most pleasantly in college for his 
love of nature. Sometimes he would gratify it by long, 
lonely tramps, when in peculiar moods, but he generally 
craved companionship. A cloud-picture, or unusual ap- 
pearance of the sky or light upon the hills, a fine sunset or 



32 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

a gathering storm, never escaped him or failed to bring 
him vivid pleasure. 

" I distinctly remember my first meeting with him. It 
was at the beginning of Freshman year. I had secured 
board at the table of two maiden ladies, near the Sheffield 
school. At my first meal a thin, pale boy, with large gray 
eyes, came in with me. He had just graduated from some 
military school, which was evidenced by the semi-military 
cap he wore looking more warlike than he did. We were 
all Freshmen at the table, and before long the restraint of 
newly coming together wore away. We all passed a most 
pleasant year together, for which we were indebted to 
Harry's vivacity and good company more than anything 
else. He was of a uniformly happy temper, and always 
showed the kindest consideration for others' feelings. 

" I loved Harry, was proud of his successes, proud of 
his friendship, and I cherish his memory." 

Soon after their graduation Harry, with his friend Bent 
and others of his classmates, joined the Columbia Law 
School, in New York City. Here, with a great enthusi- 
asm for Professor Theodore Dwight and a moderate enthu- 
siasm for the study itself, and with many interruptions and 
breaks by other pursuits, — literary, social, and political, — 
he read law for a year. On December 8, 1865, he Avas 
admitted to the membership of the Union League Club 
of Philadelphia, for which association he afterwards did 
knightly service. In July, 1866, in company with Mr. 
Adolph Borie's family, he sailed for Europe, where he 
passed sixteen months in travel, during which time he 
visited the countries of Europe, with the exception of Rus- 
sia, Sweden, Norway, and Spain. The following winter 
he spent in going up the Nile, sailing for Egypt from 



FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 33 

Brindisi. He ascended to the second cataract in his own 
boat. He went from Egypt to Palestine, riding from Jaffa 
to Jerusalem, and through Palestine and Syria to Damas- 
cus, returning to Italy by the way of Smyrna, Constanti- 
nople, Athens, and Sicily. He came home improved in 
health, having before suffered from dyspepsia. In a letter 
replying to one from a committee of his class, he answers 
categorically several questions in relation to his manner of 
life since leaving college. Among other things he says : 
" My future expectations are moderate and modest. I do 
not expect great success, but I do not anticipate failure. So 
far as I can recall I have married no one ; from Avhich you 
may conclude that, as to children, ' I have none to speak of.' " 
About this time he relates in a letter to a clerical friend 
of his family (which letter we subjoin) a remarkable dream, 
worth recording as a psychological phenomenon : 

" May 3, 1869. 

" Rev. and dear Sir, — After many delays I send you a short 
account of the dream which excited your interest last summer. 

" In the fall of 1865, I think it was in the month of November, 
while I was studying law in the city of New York, I retired to my 
room about midnight of a cold blustering evening. I remember dis- 
tinctly hearing the clock strike twelve as I lay in bed watching the 
smouldering fire until drowsiness crept upon me and I slept. I had 
hardly lost consciousness when I seemed to hear loud and confused 
noises, and felt a choking sensation at my throat as if it were grasped 
by a strong hand. I awoke (as it seemed), and found myself lying 
on my back on the cobble-stones of a narrow street, writhing in the 
grip of a low-browed, thick-set man, with ' unkempt hair and grizzled 
beard,' who, with one hand at my throat and holding my wrist with 
the other, threw his weight upon me and held me down. 

" From the first I knew that his desire was to kill me, and my 
struggles were for life. I recall distinctly the sense of horror at first 
and then that of furious determination which took possession of me. 

" I did not make a sound, but with a sudden eSbrt threw him half 



34 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

off me, clutched him frantically by the hair, and in my agony bit 
furiously at his throat. Over and over we rolled upon the stones. 
My strength began to give way before the fury of my struggles, — 
I saw that my antagonist felt it and smiled a ghastly smile of triumph. 

"Presently I saw him reach forth his hand and grasp a bright 
hatchet. Even in this extremity I noticed that the hatchet Avas new 
and apparently unused, with glittering head and white polished 
handle. I made one more tremendous fight for life ; for a second I 
held my enemy powerless, and saw with such a thrill of delight as 
I cannot forget the hori'or-stricken faces of friends, within a rod of 
us, rushing to my rescue. As the foremost of them sprang upon the 
back of my antagonist he wrenched his wrist away from me. I saw 
the hatchet flash above my head, and felt instantly a dull blow on 
the foi'ehead. 

" I fell back on the ground, a numbness spread from my head over 
my body, a warm liquid flowed down upon face and into my mouth, 
and I remember the taste was of blood, and my ' limbs were loosed.' 

" Then I thought I was suspended in the air a few feet above my 
body. I could see myself as if in a glass, lying on the back, the 
hatchet sticking in the head, and the ghastliness of death gradually 
spreading over the face. I noticed especially that the wound made 
by the hatchet was in the centre of the forehead, at right angles to 
and divided equally by the line of the hair. I heard the weeping of 
friends, at first loud then growing fiiinter, fading away into silence. 
A delightful sensation of sweet repose without a feeling of fetigue 
— precisely like that which I experienced years ago at Cape May, 
when beginning to drown — crept over me. I heard exquisite music ; 
the air was full of rare perfumes ; I sank upon a bed of down}' soft- 
ness — when, with a start, I awoke. The fire still smouldered in the 
grate ; my watch told me I had not been more than half an hour 
asleep. 

"Early the next morning I joined an intimate friend, with whom 
I spent much of my time, to accompany him, as was my daily custom, 
to the Law School. We talked for a moment of various topics, when 
suddenly he interrupted me with the remark that he had dreamed 
strangely of me the night before. 

" ' Tell me,' I asked ; ' what was it?' 

" 'I fell asleep,' he said, 'about twelve, and immediately dreamed 
that I was passing through a narrow street, when I heard noises and 



ADMISSION TO THE BAR. 35 

cries of imirder. Iluvrying in the direction of tlie noise, I saw yon 
lying on your back fighting Avitli a rough lal)oring man, who held 
you down. I rushed forward, hut as I reached you he struck you 
on the head with a hatchet, and killed you instantly. INIany of our 
friends were there, and we cried bitterly. In a moment I awoke, 
and so vivid had been my dream that my cheeks were wet with tears.' 

" ' What sort of man was he?' I asked. 

" 'A thick-set man, in a flannel shirt and rough trousers : his hair 
was uncombed, and his beard was grizzly and of a few days' growth.' 

" Within a week I was in Burlington, New Jersey. I called at a 
friend's house. 

" ' My husband,' said his wife to me, ' had such a horrid dream 
about you the other night. He dreamed that a man killed you in a 
street fight. Tie ran to help you, but before he reached the spot your 
enemy had killed you with a great club.' 

" 'Oh, no,' cried the husband across the room ; 'he killed you with 
a hatchet.' 

" These are the circumstances as I recall them. I remembered 
the remark of old Artaphernes, that dreams are often the result of a 
train of thought started by conversation or reading, or the incidents 
of the working time, but I could recall nothing, nor could either of 
ray friends cite any circumstance ' that ever they had read, had ever 
heard by tale or history,' in which they could trace the origin of this 
remarkable dream. 

" I am, dear sir, very truly yours, 

"Henry Armitt Brown. 

" P.S. — I may add that these friends of mine were personally un- 
known to each other. 

" The first one, in New York, dreamed that he was the foremost 
who reached the scene, the other that he was one of the number who 
followed ; both of which points coincided with my own dream." 

Mr. Brown resumed his study of the law in the office 
of Daniel Dougherty, Esq., of Philadelphia, and was 
admitted to the bar as an attorney in the District Court 
of Common Pleas, December 18, 1869. According to a 
note of congratulation from Mr. Dougherty, "he passed 
the best examination of all those who applied at that time." 



36 MEMOIR OF HENRV ARMITT BROWN. 

He devoted himself faithfully to liis legal studies ; but in 
April, 1870, he went again to Europe, in company with 
William P. Pepper, Esq., and travelled through Sweden, 
^NTorway, and Russia, countries left unvisited in his former 
trip, returning home the following November. In Russia 
the constant society of his friend, Eugene Schuyler, Esq., 
not only added to his pleasure but his profit as a traveller. 
While absent he wrote several letters to the Philadelphia 
Press. These letters show descriptive power without any 
clap-trap. He gives in one of them an account of " The 
Derby Day" of 1 8 70: 

" A thousand notorieties around. There is the famous turfite 
So-and-so, and yonder the celebrated jockey who won the Derby 
of such a year. That man in a white hat and a gray coat, with a 
field-glass hung over his shoulder, who gesticulates so violently to 
a circle of the sporting gentry, is Tom King. Every man about 
you is shouting to his companion. Fellows with bands on their 
hats, and books and pencils in their hands, are offering bets here 
and there in all directions. On the stand above you a number of 
ladies have already taken their seats, and are gazing down upon 
the crowd with interested faces, hushed into silence by the confusion 
and wild disorder. There is royalty close by you, for in that corner 
of the box of the Jockey Club the King of the Belgians is chatting 
with the Prince of Wales. But you turn suddenly from royalty as 
you hear some one exclaim, 'Look, there's Gladstone!' and recog- 
nize in the box above you, in the tallest of the three men who have 
just entered, the strong, grand, thoughtful fixce of the prime minister. 
It is whispered that he was never before seen at a race, and thou- 
sands of curious eyes are fixed upon him." 

While battling about in the English Channel, he thinks 
that, though a hundred recipes and drinks have been in- 
vented, " there is no cure for sea-sickness like smooth 
water." In one of his letters from Northern Europe he 
gives a bit of description of Swedish scenery on the ride 
towards Stockholm : 



LETTERS FROM ABROAD. 37 

'' Frederickshall lies between two lofty hills at the mouth of a 
little river that pours into the sea. From it to a point in Sweden 
called Strand a new road has just been opened through a lovely 
country. We started in cai'ioles early in the afternoon. The 
carlole has been often enough described to me, and it answers 
perfectlj^ the description. For the first hour or two the motion was 
dreadful, especially when we had to go slowly. You sit in a sort 
of leather box hung between two long springing shafts, and when 
the horse walks or trots slowly you are tumbled up and down, this 
side and that, all at once. When he goes rapidly and down-hill, or 
fairly runs, the motion is more regular and your misery less acute. 
However, in the course of a few hours' driving the disagreeableness 
disappears, and I fancy that cariole driving may become with prac- 
tice easy, just as camel riding in the East. One could hardly 
imagine a more picturesque road than that which leads from Fred- 
erickshall to Strand. For a time it follows the rocky banks of the 
torrent which meets the sea at Frederickshall, and then turning 
aside between two lofty hills descends to the banks of an exquisite 
lake, in the bosom of which lie twenty bright green islets. Now 
it winds around the shoulder of a rugged hill, and again sweeps 
down into a peaceful valley filled with fields of grain, and then, 
as if tired of civilization, plunges suddenly into the depths of a 
dark forest. On every side gigantic trees of great girth interlace 
their dark branches, wrapped in a drapery of moss that clings 
about them and sweeps upon ihe ground, till they look like ghosts 
of the old demi-gods, clad in the mouldering garments of the 
grave, shaking their hoary arms threateningly at the adventurous 
traveller who dares invade their solitude. Deeper and deeper 
your narrow path winds into the forest. Great rocks lie scattered 
around, and the thick branches overhead make a perpetual twilight. 
Suddenly the scene changes. You come out upon the shores of 
a little lake, and a flock of ducks rise in haste and fly ofi" with 
loud whistling of their wings. You have left the whispering pines 
and the hemlocks, and the bright sunlight shines down upon the 
dusty road. So the scene changes again and again until you 
have passed the lovely lakes and begin to descend into a valley, 
in which, by the shore of an eleventh one, you see the smoke rising 
from the smoke-stack of a steamer. Here you bid adieu to your 
cariole." 



38 MEMOIR OF HENRY A R MITT BROWN. 

In another letter there is a sunny picture of Elsinore : 

" One of the loveliest spots ia all Europe is certainly Elsinore. 
The sun was shining brightly on the old castle, and the blue sea 
was whitened with sails. The coast of Sweden, wooded to the very 
shore, witli here and there the towers of a chateau peeping above 
the trees, looked smilingly across the narrow straits, and on the 
Danish side the white beach with a strip of meadow, and then tall 
banks, waving with their dark-green trees, stretched from the town 
far away northward. Kronberg is a fine old pile with pointed 
towers, and, standing on the point where the straits are narrowest, 
looms up imposingly, especially when looked at from the sea. But 
that which fills the mind at the mention of Elsinore is not the old 
castle, nor the older town, nor the beautiful streets, nor the enchant- 
ing picture of land, sea, and sk}'. At first I was disposed to be 
merry with the Hamlet idea, and sent a servant to inquire if the 
Lord Hamlet was within. One fellow had never heai'd of his lord- 
ship, but his more learned comrade answered that he was dead and 
buried in the rear of the hotel. But the very air of Elsinore fills 
you with thoughts of the sweet prince. I thought and dreamed 
and talked of Hamlet, until I felt like a walking edition of the play 
bound in cloth. How easy to imagine that yonder orchard, sloping 
to the sea, was the scene where the old king was sleeping, his 
' custom alway of the afternoon,' or that in the church-yard close 
by occurred the stormy meeting with Laertes ; and I found it hard 
to realize, as I looked out that night to where the moon, struggling 
with the clouds, touched with silver the castle battlements, that it 
was not upon that very platform, on just such a night, that Hamlet 
ti'embled before the apparition of his father." 

He speaks of the pleasing character of the voyage from 
Stockholm to St. Petersburg, descending the river-like gulf 
with its countless islands, until you emerge into the Baltic 
and soon enter the archipelago, which, under the name of 
the Aland Islands, stretches almost continuously from the 
Swedish to tiie Finnish coast. In Russia he visited Moscow 
and Nijni-Novgorod, giving crisp touches of life as well as 
of scenery : 



LETTERS FROM ABROAD. 39 

" The hotter the weather the more the Russian clothes himself. 
Even the boys go about muffled in heavy coats, and at noon on the 
warmest day, when the heat is intense, the Russian is to be seen on 
the open squares of St. Petersburg wrapped in his enormous over- 
coat. He is much more indulgent to his legs, for they are often 
clad in white linen trousers, the effect of which, peeping beneath a 
heavy overcoat, is rather odd, and gives the appearance of a figure 
draped to illustrate the changes of the seasons, with midwinter 
about the body and midsummer at the extremities. 

" Had the famous tea of Boston been Russian ' chai,' brought 
overland instead of being tossed half a year on the ocean, our fore- 
fathers, who threw it into the harbor, would have been patriots 
indeed ! Perhaps they thought the sacrifice enough as it was, 
though ' they fought and bled and died' without having known the 
purpose for which tea was created. In Russia it is no thin watery 
liquid, pale with milk or cream, handed about in tiny cups to be 
sipped by gossiping lips ; it is a rich, clear amber, poured while 
boiling hot into tall tumblers of thin glass, and delicately sweet- 
ened. It is the Russian beverage day and night, and everywhere 
you find it of the best. 

"But the most interesting spot, and the first sought by the 
stranger, is Mont Plaisir, where the great Peter died. It is a little 
low villa, consisting of a large hall, with a row of small chambers 
on either side. It stands on a terrace, close by the water's edge, 
and it w^as while watching the bay with his spy-glass from the 
terrace that the Czar saw a boat in trouble, and hastening to the 
rescue caught the cold that cost him his life. He died in a little 
room opening out of the great hall. Behind a tall screen is the 
iron bedstead on which he breathed his last ; the sheets and pillow 
lie upon it, and his faded silk dressing-gown is folded at the foot. 
His slippers are on the floor close by, and everything is preserved 
as it was on the day of his death." 

At the famous fair of Nijni-Novgorod he seemed to 
think that it was indeed a great " sell/' since things of no 
value were exposed for sale as well as valuables; that it 
was "a matter of degrees/' as the French judge said to 
Dumas when the latter was hesitating to describe himself as, 
a dramatic autlior. He pictures one old fellow, "bearded, 



40 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

venerable, and indescribably dirty, sitting in the sun by 
a piece of old cloth, on which a few rags, some broken 
glasses, and an ancient newspaper or two were tastefully 
arranged for sale. I may do his stock injustice, — there 
might have been a nail or two." 

Upon Mr. Brown's second return home he settled him- 
self down to his professional studies. He shook off the 
slight dilettantism, which was the mingled product of a 
fondness for society and the cherishing, in a time of life 
betwixt the ideal and the actual, of something of a Hamlet- 
like spirit of thoughtful inaction, or " scruple of thinking 
too precisely on the event." He was a dreamer, though 
an earnest one. As in college, while ever pondering it, he 
had not found his work. He had not heard the bugle-call. 
He talked of the " palmam non sine pulvere," but he did 
not descend into the dust of the strife. The associations of 
early years clung about him, and he was more of a loiterer 
in those green imaginative meads than a laborer in the real 
field. But he was ready to do whatever was congenial to 
him. He became greatly interested in the organization of 
the Yale Alumni Club of Philadelphia, in 1871, of whose 
executive committee he was a most executive secretary, 
writing, speaking, and laboring in every way for it ; and 
to the end of his life he was one of its most efficient mem- 
bers, diffusing much of his enthusiasm into this and other 
similar associations which were founded one after another 
throughout the country. He frequently spoke in his neat, 
sensible, but modest style at the dinners given in Phila- 
delphia, New York, and other cities ; and when he did not 
speak, he sang, or rather, furnished the songs. 

This leads us to notice a more extended flight of his 
muse in the poem delivered at Providence, Rhode Island, 
before the Thirty-eighth Annual Convention of the Psi 



PST UPSILON POEM. 41 

Upsilon Fraternity, liekl witli the Sigma Chapter of Brown 
University. This was, perhaps, his best poetic effort. It 
is bright and pure, as everything he did was. It is musical, 
and deals with difficult metres such as young poets are apt 
to mesh themselves in, with an easy mastery of rhythm. 
It is well conceived, too, and has a more earnest ring than 
anything heretofore. It awakes a faint recollection of 
Edgar Poe's " Raven" in its changing melody, its vague 
and fanciful plot. It w^on a kindly word from Bret Harte, 
who pronounced it " clever," as well as praise from others, 
which he valued not less. 

Among the many institutions of a highly cultivated and 
literary city like Philadelphia, there is none more quaint 
than the " Shakspeare Society," which, it is enough to say, 
numbers among its members Horace Howard Furness, 
Esq., editor of the New A'^ariorum edition of Shakspeare. 
Meeting together in an upper room, hung around with 
historical pictures, and provided amply with the best 
Shakspearian editions, dictionaries, and commentaries, this 
truly " worshipfull societie" (mostly composed of lawyers) 
do excellent work, which, it is to be hoped, will not all 
be lost and "turne to ashes" with the smoke of their 
pipes. Mr. Brown was an active member of this club, 
and the thorough philologic drill of these critical evenings 
in contact with Shakspeare did his style no injury. It 
grew more Saxon, nervous, and idiomatic. The influence 
of his study of Shakspeare, as well as of Horace, after 
leaving college, is perceptible in its power upon his oratory, 
giving it elegant finish, condensation, and tactical dexterity 
in dealing with mind. At the annual dinner of the society, 
26tli of April, upon the birthday of " GuUehnus Filius 
Johannes Shaksjiere,'" his hand is seen in the culling of 
choice citations, like spicy flowers, from that portion of the 

4 



42 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

bard's works which had been studied during the preceding 
winter. 

" Theyearely course that brings this day about, 
Shall never see it, but a holy day." 

Leaving these lighter intellectual excursions, wholesome 
as well as pleasant though they may have been, we come to 
the professional and legal period of Mr. Brown's life. He 
buckled himself to his work in right man-fashion. We 
find his name in the courts doing the tasks and the drudg- 
ery that usually fall to the lot of the young attorney. He 
had begun to appreciate the sensible words of another : 
" Of all the work that produces results, nine-tenths must 
be drudgery. There is no work, from the highest to the 
lowest, which can be done well by any man who is unwill- 
ing to make that sacrifice. Part of the very nobility of the 
devotion of the true workman to his work consists in the 
fact that a man is not daunted by finding that drudgery must 
be done ; and no man can really succeed in any walk of life 
without a good deal of what in ordinary English is called 
pluck. That is the condition of all work whatever, and it 
is the condition of all success. Lawyers acquire the faculty 
of resolutely applying their minds to the driest documents 
with tenacity enough to end in the perfect mastery of their 
contents ; a feat which is utterly beyond the capacity of aoy 
undisciplined intellect, however gifted by nature." He 
plodded patiently through the " briefless" desert that leads 
to the Promised Land. He, however, acquitted himself 
with credit whenever an opportunity came for him to 
speak as junior counsel in the conduct of cases. Thus, 
in the trial of his first murder case, before the Oyer and 
Terminer Court, in the month of April, 1871, he showed, 
for a young man, according to the testimony of the legal 



PROFESSIONAL LIFE. 43 

gentlemen engaged, uncommon ability and acumen. It 
was a case of identification. There was some variation in 
the evidence, which was skilfully seized upon and made use 
of by the defence. INIr. Brown's conduct of the case, as 
well as that of his colleague, were complimented "highly 
by the opposing counsel for the Commonwealth, and were 
characterized as " worthy of older practitioners" ; and this 
was said in reference to notably shrewd Philadelphia law- 
yers, to each of whom, doubtless, the words of Juvenal 
would apply : 

'■'■Qui juris nodos et Icgum cenigmata solvat.^^ 

In the report of the case, the close of Mr. Brown's argu- 
ment was characterized as " aifecting, and was listened to 
with marked attention." His admirable conduct of the 
case and his strong speech doubtless saved the man. After 
this Mr. Brown was engaged from time to time in criminal 
and other cases of more or less importance, always acquit- 
ting himself well and giving his best efforts to his work. 
Whether, if he had lived longer, he would have come 
under the category mentioned by Rufus Choate that " case- 
losing lawyers would have no cases to lose" we know not, 
but he assuredly made an uncommonly successful begin- 
ning, and awakened high hopes of future eminence at the 
bar. One public speech of his deserves fuller notice, as 
bringing him at once into prominence in the profession as 
a man of brilliant oratorical powers. 

On the 19tli of December, 1872, a complimentary dinner 
was given at the Continental Hotel, by the Philadelphia 
Bar, to the Hon. ex-Chief-Justice Thompson. There was 
a very large assembly of the bar, and of the judges of the 
various courts. The best legal talent of the city was repre- 
sented. The guests numbered sdme three hundred. It 



44 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

was, in fact, one of the most marked and impressive occa- 
sions of the kind wliich had ever taken place in the city. 
Peter McCall, Esq., who presided, responded to the first 
regular toast, and was followed by Chief-Justice Read, < 

Hon. George W. Woodward, Hon. Morton McMichael, and \ 

many other distinguished gentlemen. While the speeches I 

now and then scintillated with humor, they were mostly , 

solid addresses, befitting the dignified and thoroughly pro- f 

fessional character of the occasion. The eighth and last { 

regular toast of the evening was : 

" The Juniors of the Bar.'' 

— " illi turba Clientiuin 
Sit major." — Hor. Od. 
"We are all engaged in the same ministry, — we are one brother- 
hood, — members of one common profession, of which we have a right 
to be proud." — Mr. Justice Sharswoocl, Bar Dinner, 1867. 

" Et vosmetipsos sic eruditos ostendite, ut spes vos puleherrima 
foveat, toto legitimo opere perfecto, posse etiam nostram rempubli- 
cam in partibus ejus vobis credendis gubernari." — Just. Proem. 

This was responded to by Henry Armitt Brown, Esq., 
in the following words : 

" Mr. President, — Somewhere in the varied reading of a boyhood, 
from which, as you have no dou1)t observed, I have but recently 
emerged, I remember to have found an anecdote of the elephant. 
In a truthful work, compiled by a philanthropic lady, called 'Anec- 
dotes of Animals,' you will find it somewhere written that it is the 
habit of those sagacious brutes, when they come to a deep and rapid 
river, to send over first the smallest of the herd, assured that if he 
ford it in safety the largest may attempt the crossing without incon- 
venience or danger. To-night, sir, you have reversed this proceed- 
ing. One by one the leaders of this company have passed this 
current of good-fellowship with firm footsteps and majestic tread, 
and now, safe upon the other side, you summon to the crossing the 
smallest of you all, that fr(im your places of ease and security you 



SPEECH AT THE THOMPSON DINNER. 45 

may enjoy his flounderings. I represent that portion of the Junior 
Bar which may be called the " great unemployed." I speak for those 
unfortunates to whom, thus far, the law has seemed less oi a practice 
than of n profession. I am well aware, sir, that in the early days of 
our seniors at the bar things were quite different. I am credibly 
informed that in their time the client did the waiting, not the lawyer. 
When they had crammed into two years the work of seven, — when 
they had skimmed through such text-books as chance and their in- 
clinations had suggested, — when they had satisfied the inquiring 
minds of the board of examiners as to the action of assumpsit or the 
estate in fee-simple, — they doubtless found an impatient turba client- 
ium awaiting their coming from the examination-room, burning to 
seek their counsel and cram their pockets with glittering fees. The 
times are changed; clients are changed, and we have fallen on de- 
generate days. We sit long years in solitude. Like Mariana, in the 
moated grange, ' He cometh not, she said.' Day follows day, and 
months run into years. No tender-hearted corporation is moved by 
our condition: hardly an assault and battery attacks our leisure; 
rarely does even the voice of the defendant in an action for slander 
startle the stillness of our lives. And we are often condemned to 
the experience of Tantalus. One sees a stream of clients pour into 
the office of a friend near by ; another is kept in a chronic anxiety 
by the knock of prosperous-looking laymen, who mistake his office 
for another man's ; while a third finds it part of his daily trial to see 
the most promising processions in full march for his office diverted 
from their purpose and turned aside by the wickedly enticing wide- 
open doors of an envious neighboring savings-fund. Thus, sir, we seem 
doomed to sit solitary and alone, while our offices, like the unhappy 
country of the patriotic Irishman, ' literally swarm with absentees.' 
But we are not altogether without hope. The flower that is born to 
blush unseen may cherish in its petals the hope of being plucked by 
rosy fingers; the gem of purest ray may still expect to glitter on the 
broad shirt front of some prosperous capitalist. I have seen it re- 
cently asserted, on no less an authority than a daily evening news- 
paper, that it is in the nature of mankind to hope. Shall we despair? 
There may be those among us to whom dulness is not dreary nor 
idleness irksome. There may be in our midst mental dyspeptics, of 
whom some one has Avittily said ' that they devour many books and 
can digest none.' We may have among us ingenuous j-ouths like the 



46 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

New York law student who thought the feudal system was lands, 
tenements, and hereditaments, and oriirinated in New York City ; or 
when asked whether a husband's infidelity was a ground for divorce, 
did not exactly comprehend the question, and begged to ask, 'Am I 
to understand by that word "infidelity" that the husband of the 
woman denied the existence of a Supreme Being?' We may be 
good and bad, yet there are brains among us that will be working, 
and tongues that will not rest forever dumb. In the solitude of our 
offices, — a solitude broken only by the visits of men rightly termed 
men of assurance, who seek unselfishly to induce us to lay up treas- 
tires beyond the grave, or by those of beggars, whose theory seems 
to hold that the office of the youthful lawyer is the chosen abode of 
that charity Avhich is kind, no matter how much or how long it suf- 
fereth, — in that rarely invaded solitude we are nursing hope. Do we 
not right, sir, as we sit there without even the memory of a client with 
Avhich to people our cane-bottomed chairs, to dream of knots that may 
need our untying, of shadowy corporations of the future seeking for 
counsel, of railroads not yet enjoined? May we not expect the day 
when the tread of the client will resound through the entry, and his 
voice clamor for admittance at the door, when we, too, jostled by a 
tu7'ba cUentmm viaxima, shall sally forth into the forum to argue 
points yet undreamed of, and puzzle jurors yet unborn? 

" But if it be a long time before Ave become entitled to the duties 
and responsibilities of our profession, to some of its privileges we 
are admitted at once. From the moment of our adoption into its 
ranks we are made to feel the influence of that fraternal feeling 
which is one of the chief glories of the Philadelphia Bar. We feel 
it everywhere, at all times, — in the forbearance of the elders ; in 
the respect of equals; in the veneration of the young. It is proof 
against all attacks, and survives the bitterness of every contention. 
I see around me men who were yesterday, and perhaps will be to- 
morrow, arrayed against each other in intellectual combat. The 
passions of the fight have vanished ; the heaviest blow has made no 
bruise ; the fier6est thrust has left no scar. And here, where the 
united bar has assembled to honor one whose learning and character 
has so long added strength and lustre to his great office, — here 
among the leaders of the bar, even the youngest feel that there is 
room for them. And following in their turn, they too may press 
forward to lay at his feet their tribute of veneration and respect. 



SPEECH AT THE THOMPSON DINNER. 47 

" In the words of another honored guest, whose courtesy and 
thoughtfulness and unfailing kindness have done so much to impress 
upon the juniors of the bar their sincerity and truth, — in your 
words, sir, fitly quoted here, ' We are one brotherhood.' Old and 
young alike. Yoked in the same ministry, cherishing the same tra- 
ditions, inheriting the same history, taught by the same examples ! 
Long may Providence preserve those honored lives! Long may you 
both shed the light of living examples on your younger brethren ! 
Long may you taste the reward of your labor in the calm enjoyment 
of completed fame ! Vivite felices quibus est fortitna peracta ! 

" The years are fleeting; and on us, in our turn, must fall the 
responsibilities and trusts of life. Then when time shall have made 
us stronger, and suffering more patient, if we have been earnest in 
endeavor, firm in purpose, honest in emulation, true to our exem- 
plars and ourselves, the bar that has so often found them in the 
generations of yesterday and to-day may not search hopelessly 
among her servants of to-morrow for the skill, the learning, the elo- 
quence, the strict integrity, the calm devotion to his threefold duty 
which make the perfect lawyer ; nor our Republic seek in vain 
among her younger children for that broad and generous statesman- 
ship which embraces all humanity, is firm, benevolent, consistent, 
which, lifted above the passions of the hour, acts not for to-day but 
for all time, — tried though it may be by both extremes of fortune, 
still stands four-square to all the winds that blow. 

" I am but one in this company, and stand on the threshold of 
professional life. I am altogether unworthy to speak for my 
brethren of the younger bar, and yet, to-night, I feel their hearts 
beating with my heart, and hear their voices ring in mine, bidding 
me tell you that we seek no higher glory and cherish no loftier am- 
bition than to tread worthily in the footsteps of our fathers, and at 
the end of lives of usefulness, and it may be of honor, to hand down- 
unspotted and unstained the institutions they committed to our cai"e 
into the keeping of their children's children's sons." 

There liad been some slight astonishment expressed, and 
perhaps a little touch of prejudice excited, by the announce- 
ment of Mr. Brown's name as one to fill this, in some re- 
spects, responsible jjosition ; and this might very naturally 
be accounted for from the fact that he was so recent a 



48 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

member of the bar, and as yet comparatively unknown. 
But all such feelings were dispelled like mists the instant 
the clear and calm tones of his exquisitely finished elocu- 
tion fell upon the ear. The modesty, the manliness, the 
wit, the good sense, and the elevated closing sentences of 
the address confirmed the good impression made, and there 
was but one o])inion, most enthusiastically expressed, as to 
its merit. Although coming at the end of a long and 
exhausting evening of speaking, it was listened to with 
absolute delight. The Legal Gazette of December 27, 
1872, in noticing the bar dinner, remarked : " The last- 
named gentleman (Henry Armitt Brown), in response to 
the toast, " The Juniors of the Bar," made an excellent 
and a])propriate speech, reflecting credit not only upon 
himself, but the young members of the bar in general. It 
Avas decidedly one of the best speeches of the evening." 
Another paper {The Legal hitelligencer) said : " The eifort 
was an able one, and during its delivery received the atten- 
tion of every person in the room." The Public Ledger, of 
Philadelphia, characterized it as " one of the most marked 
orations of the evening, calling forth from the seniors as 
well as the juniors the heartiest applause." The London 
(England) Law Times, of February 15, 1873, thought the 
lesson of the speech, as conmiented upon by the Pittsburgh 
(Ohio) Legal Gazette, "would be a lesson that should be 
taken to heart by the junior bar of England." One of the 
young lawyers present wrote a note on the spot to a member 
of his family, containing these warm words of praise: "I 
cannot go to bed without writing a line to tell you what a 
triumph Harry has had. There has been no speech in my 
time, by a Philadelphia lawyer, that has made the impres- 
sion his did to-night. His audience, to a large extent, had 
to be conciliated, and, what was worse, he knew it; but he 



POPULAR LECTURES. 49 

conquered every prejudice, and when he finished there was 
not one dissenting voice. A more perfect and complete 
success was never achieved by any orator, and it was the 
best men of the bar who were the loudest in his praise." 
In fact, it was discovered that he could speak. 

This discovery that Henry Armitt Brown could speak 
was not a new one to many. In the Municipal Reform 
Association of Philadelphia, which had been established 
previously during this same year, he had already taken an 
active part, which involved much public speaking, and of 
a kind to test a man's metal, — but before alluding to this 
a word should be said of his entrance on the field of popu- 
lar lecturing. It came about in a natural way, and from 
a M'ish to help on good objects. His first lecture, " Hun- 
dred-Gated Thebes" (one of a course of four lectures), was 
originally delivered for the aid of a benevolent enterprise, 
and was heard by large audiences in Philadelpliia, Burling- 
ton, and many other places within and without the State. 
One of the notices of this lecture, in the Daily 3Imer's 
Journal, Pottsville, December 31, 1872, falls into an 
amusinp; error about his antecedents : " A fine audience 
assembled last evening at Union Hall to hear Mr. Brown, 
son of the late David Paul Brown, Esq.,* who is a rising 
young lawyer of Philadelphia, and who was requested by 
Daniel Dougherty, Esq., to come up and fill his engage- 
ment to lecture, — Mr. Dougherty being too unwell to come. 
Mr. Brown's subject was 'Thebes,' and for nearly two 
hours the lecturer held his audience absorbed and inter- 
ested in it and his delightful delivery. He is a fine 
speaker, superior even to his father in his palmiest days." 

* It is hardly necessary to state that David Paul Brown was a 
Philadelphia lawyer of celebrity, especially in criminal cases. He 
was born in 1795 and died 1872. 



50 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

Mr. Brown prepared other travel lectures, with the titles 
of "A Pilgrimage to Jerusalem," "From Dan to Beer- 
sheba," " On the Acropolis" ; and he delivered them first 
in the chapel in the rear of St. Andrew's Church, and after- 
wards at other places. In these performances he showed 
marked descriptive power and mother wit, but his mind was 
an earnest one, his imagination kindled at solemn themes, 
and the thoughtful aspects of his semi-poetic topics were 
not set aside for sensational effect or mere amusement. He 
would have risen to the fi;rst rank in the popular esteem 
had he followed out this career. He had every qualification 
for it, and would have rivalled the most shining names in 
this field. As it was, he generally spoke for some philan- 
thropic object, and he went upon the principle. Touch the 
feelings and you touch the pocket ; arouse the imagination 
and you ennoble and enlarge the sympathies. But there 
was something better than this for him. 

Since the days of old Rome great cities have been centres 
of power and also of corruption. They form in themselves 
political units. Immense social forces are concentrated in 
them. The municipal privileges possessed by corporations, 
having at their control large revenues and extensive patron- 
age, are strained to the utmost. The irresponsibility of 
corporate powers presents a temptation to extortion from 
the fcixpayer. The taxpayer suffers from the immunity of 
the tax-maker. It does not much matter what political 
party is dominant, and unless there is honesty somewhere, 
and honesty of the most fearless and independent sort, 
there is apt to be outrageous abuse of political power. 
Such a state of things leads to the most monstrous frauds 
and rapacities. The desperate contest in the city of New 
York, which cannot soon be forgot, differed in some of its 



MUNICIPAL REFORM. 51 

phases and in its gigantic proportions from that in Phila- 
delphia, which city not long before had been declared by 
good anthority to be " the best governed in the Union, and 
whose local legislators were distinguished for their integrity 
and devotion to duty," but in its main aspects the conflict 
was the same in Philadelphia as in New York, and was 
none the less needful, determined, and bitter. Those who 
demanded reform were confined to no class of society or 
shade of political sentiment. The vast, power of " Muni- 
cipal Rings" demanded the most extraordinary efforts to 
bring about their overthrow. 

The call for a change in the methods of political action 
in the city of Philadelphia culminated at the beginning of 
the year 1872 in the formation of a Citizens' Municipal 
Reform Association, with ward organizations and central 
committees. The principles of the association struck at 
the root of political abuse, viz.: the matter of the purity 
of elections. They declared that important offices should 
be in the hands of trustworthy men of whatever party. 
To prove the unselfishness of their motives they pledged 
themselves not to hold office or to be candidates for office. 
They meant to do thorough work. It was a dispassionate 
movement made at a time when there was no great political 
excitement, and in a lull between the national elections. The 
association embraced principles like these : a non-partisan 
registry law ; salaries and not fees ; no interference of the 
Legislature in local affiiirs ; an examination by the people 
into the city departments to learn where their money goes ; 
public officers to be the servants not the masters of their 
constituents ; a determined and continuous opposition to all 
rings and corrupt politicians of both parties ; and a devo- 
tion to the best interests of the whole city of Philadelphia 
and the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. 



52 MEMOIR OF HE NET A R MITT BROWN. 

From the earliest beginnino; of this Reform movement 
Mr. Brown identified himself with it. His moulding hand 
is seen in all its j)rinciples and acts. His energizing spirit 
constantly urged it on. In fact, he had found something 
to do worthy of him. This was a real evil to attack. It 
was a work that called for strong- men. He was fairlv 
woke up. We date his public life and his public greatness 
from this moment. He was obliged to enter the fight with 
able, but in some. instances uncongenial, allies. He did 
not shrink from any fastidious feeling of this sort. He 
was willing to endanger his own political reputation and 
chances. He struck hands with all who were resolved on 
purifying city politics, cost Avhat it might. He threw his 
whole force into this agitation. He was the life of it 
while his connection with it lasted, which was essentially 
to the end of his life. He was active in organizing the 
different ward associations. He was a frequent and fear- 
less speaker in all parts of the city. He and his associates 
had to contend with formidable foes, and with those ele- 
ments of unprincipled force to be found only in great 
cities, and nowhere more reckless and ruffian than in 
Philadelphia. He sometimes spoke when missiles flew, 
but he calmed the excited crowds with a word. Plis self- 
possession was perfect. The tones of his voice exerted a 
wonderfully soothing influence, and he was never seriously 
interrupted. In one great mass-meeting in West Phila- 
delphia he was the first speaker. He charged that out- 
rageous abuses existed in the city government ; he declared 
that the time had come for radical reform; he affirmed 
that the men then in office had sought their places ham- 
pered and tied by promises with which their nominations 
were bought, and that they wrongfully administered the 
offices to which they were chosen. He boldly dissected 



POLITICAL LEADERSHIP. 53 

the characters of office-holders. He exhibited a power of 
rapid character-analysis. It was the clean and fatal rapier 
thrust. He said the severest things without coarseness or 
harshness. He said what every one felt to be true. When- 
ever a political demagogue fell writliing under his thrust, 
as boys say, " he did not know what hurt him" ; but it was 
sim])ly truth spoken in the keenest manner. He did not 
appeal to men's passions, but to the best that was in them. 
His style was eminently '" sweetness and light," the per- 
suasiveness of a consciously honest soul. While he could 
be scathingly sarcastic, his real sweetness rarely permitted 
liim to be so. He preferred the weapons of truth and 
calmness. " The gentle mind by gentle deeds is known." 
Some of his colleagues were noble idealists; others were 
ennobled by the idea of reform; but there was no one 
who M'as more thoroughly, unselfishly, and practically a 
reformer than himself. By the testimony of his friends in 
this struggle no one felt what he was doing more deeply 
than himself. He acted on his convictions of duty. He 
thus rose up at once to be a leader. Everybody recognized 
him as such. One of his colleagues said, "He was worth 
a whole army corps to the cause." He gave no pledges ; 
he resorted to no partisan tricks. If he aspired to political 
leadership he scorned political office. His speeches grew 
more and more weighty. At first with reluctance, but 
then with delight and an ever-increasing sense of power, 
he took up, at the request of one of his friends who saw 
what there was in him, the practice of extemporaneous 
speaking. He came to like it immensely, to grow easy 
under its difficulties, and to rejoice in its freedom. His 
voice, action, and thought adapted themselves readily to 
this change of style, and many a crowded and turbulent 
assembly acknowledged the sway of his off- hand address 



54 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

and cool, finished elocution. By this means he acquired 
sometliing of the gladiatorial power of Wendell Phillips 
and other reform speakers, of meeting the changing exi- 
gencies of assemblies, and of prompt repartee. He said 
of a political and notably self-opinionated opponent, who 
on one occasion was accused by a speaker of his own party 
of being an "infidel": "An infidel, — not so; he is a self- 
made man, and he worships his creator." 

He has been blamed for acting at times against Repub- 
lican nominees and the Republican party, while he was 
himself an avowed Republican. His aim was higher than 
party. He might have answered in the words ]nit in the 
mouth of Savonarola by the author of Romola : " The 
cause of freedom, which is the cause of God's kingdom 
upon earth, is often most injured by those who carry within 
them the power of certain human virtues. The wickedest 
man is often not the most insurmountable obstacle to the 
triumph of good." 

But there was a new field beginning to present itself to 
his claims and oratorical powers, which served for a time to 
draw off his attention, though not his heart, from the cause 
of municipal reform, — it was the opening Centennial epoch 
of memorializing the great events of the country's history. 
From his intense love of the past and of the memory of his 
ancestors, he had always been drawn to historical studies ; 
and he had the qualities of an historian, patience in original 
research, love of exact statement, the imagination which 
comprehends and clothes the past in life, and a picturesque 
style ; and if he had become tired of political life, it is the 
opinion of friends who knew him best that he would have 
devoted himself, as he often talked of doing, to historical 
investigations. The splendid career of Motley attracted 



CENTENNIAL MASS-MEETINQ. 55 

him, as it has other young men ; and, to our own knowledge, 
for some time after leaving college, he was casting about for 
a fit theme of an historical nature to which to devote his 
attention. 

There were two occasions of a more or less historic char- 
acter that led his mind naturally to take a vivid interest in 
the Centennial campaign that followed. The first of these 
was an anniversary meeting of the Lincoln Institution, 
established for the children of those who had fallen in the 
civil war, which was held January 17, 1873. Mr. Brown 
was called upon to speak in memory of Major-General 
George G. Meade, the recent president of the institution, 
who had died a short time previous. The closing sentences 
of this address were as follows : 

" I think not of Meade as the gallant officer stemming the tide of 
disaster at Seven Pines or Gaines's Mill, nor as the skilful general 
driving his routed foe from Gettysburg, but rather as that quiet, self- 
contained man, who, in the stillness of his tent, received the order 
that made him commander of a demoralized army wearied with 
forced marches, to overtake, on its own soil, its triumphant enemies, 
and took up the burden without a murmur. I think of him in the 
last years of his well-spent life, not as the laurel-crowned hero of a 
tremendous victory, but as the patriotic citizen moving in our midst 
without ostentation or display, respected, honored, and beloved. And 
to-day, speaking of him in this place, I love to picture him as one in 
whose heart charity had found a refuge, who ' comforted the widow 
and the fatherless, and kept himself unspotted from the world.'" 

The second occasion to wdiich we allude was the great 
mass-meeting held on the 19th of April, 1873, at the 
Academy of Music, under the auspices of the Women's 
Centennial Committee. This was the opening gun of the 
Centennial Exposition campaign in Philadelphia, which 
afterwards filled the world with its rumor. The vast 
assemblage on this occasion was called to order by Mr. 



56 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

Jolin Welsh. The venerable Eli K. Price, a represen- 
tative of one of the oldest Quaker families of Philadel- 
phia, presided. Mr. Brown was the first speaker. His 
remarks were brief but pertinent, and applause greeted 
the conclusion of his speech. The Philadelphia Press, \n 
a notice of the prominent addresses of the evening, says : 
" The speeches of Henry Armitt Browai and Daniel Dough- 
erty were finished orations. Mr. Brown is young in our 
legal public circles, but will live to an old future, judged 
by his present promise. Mr. Dougherty is always young 
in heart ; and it was pleasant to see that the ripening mind, 
while it gives him wisdom, does not moderate his love of 
country. These two really fine orators made some striking 
points, and in style and ideas they made a capital aggregate. 
What they said will be remembered, as it ought to be. 
Brown starts out as a more quiet rhetorician, a sort of 
young-old man, and Dougherty, after two decades of im- 
pulsive public speaking, adorns middle life as the teacher of 
a highly chastened style. In the audience sat two great- 
granddaughters of Benjamin Franklin, — Mrs. Gillespie, 
chairman of the Ladies' Centennial Committee of Thirteen, 
and Mrs. Emory, wife of General W. H. Emory, now in 
command of the Department of New Orleans. A fact like 
this shows how near we are to the Past ; how close we stand 
to the leaders, inventors, and heroes who, by their wisdom, 
genius, and patriotism, gave and preserved us a nation." 

There were other notices not so flattering. It \vas said 
that Brown's speech was too "fine" for a mass-meeting; 
that he was young and had a great deal to learn. This 
criticism caused amusement among his friends, since the 
meeting was simply a gathering in the Academy of Music 
of the prominent people of the city, and, in fact, the 
asseinbly was entirely lacking in the element which goes 



DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL LIFE. 57 

to make up mass-meetings generally. The Catholic Herald, 
while praising the address as " evincing culture," blamed 
his allusion to " liberated Italy," and said that the idea 
was a " stencil in the nostrils of every Catholic." It may 
be that there was a grain of truth in the criticisms of his 
style. Mr. Brown's tendency was to elaboration and great 
carefulness in what he said on a set occasion, having con- 
scientious fear lest he might not do full justice to his 
theme. He so prepared himself as to insure success, and 
perhaps sometimes over-prepared. But criticism was pa- 
tiently received, and did him good. He never attempted 
to defend himself against criticism, but silentlv weighed 
its worth, and suffered it to have its corrective influence. 
He learned from his foes. 

In the incessantly busy life which he now led, he had, to 
cheer him, a bright home-life. He was married December 
7, 1871, to Miss Josephine Lea, daughter of John R. 
Baker, Esq., of Philadelphia, — a union of rare happiness 
and congeniality of mind. His house became a centre of 
hospitality seasoned with wit. His own companionable 
qualities, his literary culture and reading, his incomparable 
skill as a raconteur, not seeking to display himself but to 
give pleasure to others, made him sought for in the most 
influential circles ; and where he was, though ever modest, 
he was sure to be the centre of conversation as naturally as 
a hearth-fire in winter draws around it all in the room. It 
was a heart-glow at which all warmed themselves. Like 
Tom Hood he could electrify a circle by his stories, his 
improvisations and humorous representations of character, 
transforming himself into Daniel Webster, Edwin Forrest, 
an Eastern Shore countryman at pleasure, or leading on to 
questions of political and public moment ; and as he grew 
older the last predominated, and here was seen to be the 

5 



58 MEMOIR OF UENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

treasury of subjects in which he had garnered up his 
inmost thoughts. He grew to be a nobler patriot with the 
growth of his reflective powers. 

But tlie place where his soul dwelt, and shone, and 
glowed like a luminous lamp fed by odorous oil at mid- 
night, where he gathered together all his wandering fan- 
cies without fear of criticism, was his own room in the 
upper part of his house. It is now just as he left it, with 
the same papers lying on the table where he last sat. It 
is a low-studded apartment immediately under the roof, 
and poorly lighted from without at mid-day. Heavy 
beams painted red, as in old English houses, run across the 
ceiling. Thick tapestry curtains hang before the windows, 
so that it is easy to exclude the daylight or to turn day 
into night. It was probably of these curtain-hangings 
that he wrote to his mother, then in Europe, " Be sure and 
send me some curtains that are mediaeval, feudal, griffony, 
and dragony, — ^you know what I mean." In the wide- 
jambed fireplace the gaping chimney lets in a beam of 
outside sunshine upon a great bed of white ashes, wan 
relics of many a magnificent wood-fire whose flames danced 
upon the hearth and the uncouth fire-dogs. On the man- 
tel-piece stand curiously-twisted brass candlesticks from 
Norway, bronze gods from Egypt, small marble obelisks, 
tall mugs of Bohemian glass with colored heraldic devices. 
Over these in the centre are suspended a Russian Byzantine 
painting of a long-bearded Greek saint, and on either side 
large photographs of the heads of Goethe and Bufus 
Choate ; the last a gift from Mr. Choate's family through 
James T. Fields, Esq., — a powerfully life-like portrait. A 
portrait of Shakspeare and a mask of Garrick (taken from 
the mask in the possession of the Garrick Club of London) 
occujjy the right hand of the fireplace, and between them, 



HIS ''DEN." 59 

wreathed with ivy, is hung an immense wooden s])oon, 
trophy of college days. A big brass Norwegian kettle on 
a tripod of antique form stands near, and by its side next 
the wall is a long-cased clock. A sideboard, black with age 
and highly carved, is filled with spoils of European travel. 
Three or four other carved Norwegian cabinets and chests 
stand in the room. A bronze cast of Napoleon's face after 
death, statuettes of Henry Clay and Daniel Webster, and 
many other small works of art occupy the shelf of the 
bookcase, which runs breast-high around the apartment. 
On the red-papered walls are large groups of palm leaves 
and brass sconces ; in the corners are shields of family 
arms. The door is mounted with massive brass hinges 
and locks. Louis Quatorze high-backed and stamped 
leather-covered chairs stand around the room, which is 
carpeted with rugs and skins of different animals. Upon 
the Avriting-table stands a small but spirited bronze of 
William Pitt, taken from the statue erected in Hanover 
Square, London, and by its side lie a miniature edition of 
Shakspeare and a Bible. The last oj)ens more readily 
than anywhere else to the Old Testament prophets, whose 
lofty imagery and burning sentences against national crimes 
formed his favorite reading. The library itself, for a young 
man's, is large and well selected, showing a manly taste. 
The books are chiefly historical and political. There are 
the standard works on Greek, Roman, Italian, French, 
English, and American history, the speeches of English 
statesmen and orators, various editions of Shakspeare, a 
good though small selection of Latin and Greek classics, 
the English poets, some of the French essayists, and some 
works on government, political economy, and industrial 
and social questions, together with his law library. In his 
last years his reading tended to a solid kind, and if he 



60 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

could not say precisely in the words of Frederick W. 
Robertson, " I read hard or not at all, never skimming, 
never turning aside to many inviting books; and Plato, 
Aristotle, Butler, Thucydides, Jonathan Edwards, have 
passed like the iron atoms of the blood into my mental 
constitution," yet he could speak of his real working years 
in much the same way. We do not claim for Mr. Brown 
that he was a " terrible worker" during all his intellectual 
life, but he was growing ever more and more severe in 
his tasks, jealous of his time, careful in the selection of 
his studies, self-denying and self-disciplining in his reading. 
He fed his mind upon substantial food, and perhaps he 
felt the necessity of making up deficiencies that would 
strengthen and consolidate all, and would make a firm 
foundation on which to build a statesmanlike superstruc- 
ture. He was beginning to learn the lesson 

''Of labor, that in lasting fruit outgrows 
Far noisier schemes, accomplish'd in repose, 
Too great for haste, too high for rivalry." * 

The question might be asked. How can a lawyer become 
a statesman ? In Germany this is answered by the estab- 
lishment of schools specially devoted to the sciences of 
government, of State-law, but in our own land a young man 
is compelled to make his way alone to something broader 
in political knowledge and life. By the prompting of his 
own genius, if at all, he is led to study the science of gov- 
ernment, the government of towns and cities, and the prac- 
tical working of these. He is led to study commerce in 
its multiform relations ; manufactures and the various in- 
dustries and arts that have a bearing upon the welfare of 

* Matthew Arnold. 



I 



THE CENTENNIAL EPOCH. (31 

tliG people; political economy and financial questions in 
their practical as well as theoretical aspects ; history, an- 
cient and modern ; religious systems and their influence 
upon popular character, — in fine, everything that has a 
direct relation to national interest. In this way, by inde- 
pendent effort, and by study directed to a high aim, he may 
expand himself from the professional type of man — the 
lawyer who is a man of precedents, and whose aims are 
personal — into the comprehensiveness of the public man 
and statesman. In fact, no book or school can teach this. 
Genius for such studies, original observation, and a tireless 
energy that leaves nothing unknown, nothing unexplained, 
— the energy of Charles Sumner, or of greater men, like 
Bismarck and Abraham Lincoln, the last of whom educated 
himself into a statesman from being a very narrowly-trained 
lawyer, — these are the pursuits and qualifications which, in 
the place of a moi-e systematic European cultivation in states- 
manship, go to educate the man who is to make laws and 
guide the State. Into this field of seif-traiuing for some- 
thing larger and broader Mr. BroM^i was continually press- 
ing with an intense earnestness, — but these matters and ques- 
tions we must defer to a somewhat later period of his life. 

The Centennial epoch had commenced. Philadelphia, 
as being the central point of the proj^osed national com- 
memoration, was in the beginning of its excitement and 
stirring preparation. All Pennsylvania was to be aroused 
to share in this patriotic feeling and in the work of procur- 
ing funds for this colossal enterprise. Popular orators 
were sent out to all the chief country towns. It was a time 
o1 jlux de bouche, but of all who spoke, none, we are of 
the opinion, had a truer idea of the importance of the 
opportunity to promote pure patriotic sentiments than 



Q2 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

Henry Arniitt Brown, as certainly no one more distin- 
guished himself as a speaker than he during this fervid 
epoch. Speech was to be the Teucrian bow with which 
he defended the ships of his country's hopes and treasures 
from irreverent hands. He made one of his first addresses 
September 18, 1873, at the large town of Reading, Pennsyl- 
vania. It was an immense citizens' meeting to which over 
two hundred vice-presidents were chosen. The Philadelphia 
Press said of it : " At the Grand Opera House, H. Armitt 
Brown, of Philadeljihia, delivered one of the best addresses 
on the Centennial enterprise heard this year." 

The succeeding week he spoke to a great gathering of the 
people at Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, in the Moravian Day 
School Hall. He commenced his speech in these words : 

" For the first time in my life it is my privilege to visit Bethlehem, 
and if I were here for any other object than that which has brought 
us together to-night, it might seem to me necessary to introduce my- 
self to you with some words of apology or excuse. But when, as a 
Pennsylvanian, I come before Pennsylvanians ; when, as an Ameri- 
can, I am speaking to Americans, endeavoring as far as in me lies 
to arouse my countrymen to the discharge of a great patriotic duty, 
I feel that apology is unnecessary ; I forget for the moment that I am 
a stranger ; I seem to be at home looking into the faces of friends." 

During the months of October and November, 1873, 
Mr. Brown delivered at various towns in Pennsylvania and 
Ohio an oration entitled " The Centennial, the Story of an 
Hundred Years." This address seemed to strike audiences 
differently. In one place it was pronounced tedious, and it 
was said of the speaker that while " his manner of delivery 
is attractive, his diction clear and faultless, and his whole 
ap})earance that of a true orator, yet he failed to compre- 
hend his subject, and S])oke more of the Centennial to be 
than of the Centennial that had been." In another place 



THE STORY OF AN HUNDRED YEARS. 63 

the prophetic feature in the speech was considered the most 
attractive one. The special character of this address may 
be gathered from a brief notice in an Ohio paper : " The 
speaker on the ' Story of an Hundred Years' dwelt particu- 
larly upon the past of our country's history, contrasting 
the beginning of this century with the ending ; comparing 
our present standing as a nation, our wealth, prosperity, 
strength, and greatness as a peo])le, with the weakness, 
poverty, and insignificance in the eyes of the nations of the 
earth, of the United States in 1776. For JNIr. Brown, like 
all ffood Americans, counts the ending; of the century not 
with an 18 and two unmeaning ciphers, but with the magic 
figures 76, and we believe inspired every hearer with a 
desire to live and see the true centennial of this govern- 
ment, and witness the consummation so long foreshadowed 
by the preparations of President and people for the grand 
ceremonial at Philadelphia in that year.* He had a worthy 
subject and fully did it justice. His manner is pleasing, 
his voice thrilling and in the heroic parts moves every 
heart ; while, whether he be interested or not, he impresses 
all with the conviction that he is, and that every word is 
the inspiration of the moment. No monotonous repetition 
of an 'oft-repeated story' is suggested either by word or 
manner. His enemy, had he listened, would have been stung 
with envy, while his friend would have been made glad." 

It is with oratory as with music, sometimes it raises 
and sometimes depresses our hearts. If men tell us what 
we are ready to receive they are eloquent. "Nothing," 
says a French author, " is so uncertain as eloquence." 

New England w^as catching the Centennial enthusiasm. 
* Tliis was written in 1873. 



64 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

There was the huiidredtli anniversary of the throwing 
overboard of the tea in Boston harbor to be celebrated on 
December 16, 1873. To tliis "Boston tea-party," given 
by the Boston ladies, — some of them lineal descendants of 
the " Mohawks" who did the deed, — Philadelphia was in- 
vited to send gncsts, and one of the two whom she chose 
was Mr. Brown. The celebration was held in Faneuil 
Hall, or, as Daniel Webster and the old-fashioned people 
used to call it, — and it would have been peculiarly appro- 
priate for this occasion, — " Funnel Hall." The crowded 
assembly was addressed by Hon. Josiah Qnincy, Hon. 
Robert C. Winthroj), Henry A. Brown and Frederick 
Fraley, of Philadelphia, Rev. Edward E. Hale, Hon. 
Thomas Russell, and Samuel M. Quincy, with a poem by 
Ralph Waldo Emerson. Amid these veteran speakers 
Mr. Brown seemed slender and untried, but he did nobly. 
He was Greek Glaucus among the old heavy-armed 
gladiators. He was introduced by the president, Mr. 
Quincy, in these words : " Boston does not stand alone in 
the controversy which the Tea-jjarty aroused, and of all 
places most immediately connected with us was the largest 
city of our Union, as it then existed, — Philadelphia. The 
moment the act was done Boston sent Paul Revere to tell 
that the tea was in the water. We sent a messenger one 
hundred years ago ; and though the Philadelphians are 
slow in some respects, they have now sent their representa- 
tive after the lapse of a century." 
Mr. Brown spoke as follows : 

" Ladies and Gentlemen, — A few days ago a stranger stood in 
the new museum in the State House at Philadelphia. Around him 
were the relics of colonial times and the portraits of our ancient 
kings, from Charles II. down to George III. Approaching him, a 
gentleman said, with courteous inquiry, 'You are a foreigner, sir?" 



THE BOSTON '^TEA-PARTV" SPEECH. 65 

' Bless you,' was the reply, * I am no foreigner ; I am an English- 
man.' [Laughter.] And in his spirit so I feel to-night, sir, though I 
stand for the first time in Faneuil Ilall. I see about me no familiar 
countenance; I am in an unaccustomed place; 1 have journeyed far 
from home ; and yet this is Boston, and this Faneuil Hall. Here 
hang the likenesses of men whose portraits since my childhood I 
have seen in Independence Hall, — John Hancock and John Adams, 
Samuel Adams and Elbridge Gerry (lldbert Treat Paine is not there 
yet, though the place is waiting), and I feel that here at least I am 
no stranger. [Applause.] I rise in this presence and on this anni- 
versary to speak to you the words of Philadelphia, — the fraternal 
greetings of your brethren assembled there. Would that the messen- 
ger were more worthy ; would that there might come to me to-night a 
voice of fire — an inspiration born of the memories of this place — that 
I might drink in the spirit of this anniversary, and tell in fitting 
words the message which I bring ! It is in keeping with your an- 
cient kindly feeling for Philadelphians that you ask to hear from 
her to-night. Boston has heard her voice before ; not only in 
' piping times of peace,' of prosperity, of sunshine, but in days of 
doubt, and danger, and distress, of suffering, of trial, and of want. 
In season and out of season, in joy and sorrow, in peace and war, 
you have more than once turned to her for sympathy, and you have 
not found her wanting. When your fathers asked her help and 
counsel in the dark hours that preceded the great struggle, she 
sent them back no uncertain action. You protested against the 
stamp acts, and so did she ; you destroyed the hateful tea, and when 
the news reached Philadelphia her inhabitants assembled to applaud 
your act, and, if need be, to follow your example. The sounds from 
Lexington roused her as well as you, and the story of your trium- 
phant defeat on yonder heights awoke in Philadelphia an echo that 
shook her iron hills. She opened wide her arms to greet the great 
men whom you sent to her first Congress ; and, when the British 
held Boston in their grasp, she heard the clanking of your chains, 
and that Congress, assembled in her State House, sent you Wash- 
ington. [Applause.] As she was then she is to-day. Still, on her 
busiest street, stands the old State House, — preserved with pious 
care, — holding up, as this thrice-sacred building does, the old time 
and the new time face to face ; and from its walls your great men, 
as well as hers, look down upon another spot made holy by their 



66 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

patriotism and virtue. There, in the centre of her l)usy life, lies 
Independence Square, its corners resting on her crowded highways, 
' a sacred island in a tumultuous main ;' close by she guards the 
relics of the dead — ^your own as well as hers — whom fate confided to 
the keeping of the land for which they died ; and in her bosom 
there, to-day, she bears the dust of Franklin. All around her are 
reminders of the time when Philadelpliia and Boston stood in the 
very front; when Pennsylvania and Massachusetts held up the 
hands of Washington. Before her roll the waters that wash the 
feet of Trenton and Red Bank ; beside her lies the smiling valley of 
Whitemarsh ; still, in her suburljs, stands the old stone house round 
which the battle raged at Germantown. She sees the sun set behind 
those peaceful hills — unconscious of their fame — between which 
slumbers Valley Forge, and by her southern borders flows a placid 
stream that bears the immortal name of Brandy wine ! Here stood 
the sons of Boston and her children side by side. There your blood 
and hers commingled stained the cruel snow ; together you shared 
the sufferings and the sorrows ; together the danger and the toil : 
and the victory, with its blessings, was for both ! Iler tongue may 
cleave to the roof of her mouth and her right hand forget its cun- 
ning, but she will remember this! And it is peculiarly appropriate 
that she should speak to you to-night. When the news reached 
Philadelphia that year — 1773 — that the tea-ships were on their way, 
her citizens met in the State House on the 17th day of October, and 
unanimously resolved 'that the attempt to levy taxes without the 
assent of the people was an infringement of the inherent right of 
freemen, and an attack upon the liberties of America' ; ' that resist- 
ance was the duty of every true American' ; 'that whoever should 
directly or indirectly aid or abet in landing, receiving, or selling 
the tea was an enemy of his country,' and 'that the consignees 
should be forced to resign.' On the 2d of November following the 
Bostonians met here and adjourned to the 5th, when, having ap- 
pointed John Hancock moderator, they unanimously adopted as 
their own 'the resolutions of our brethren of Philadelphia.' Six 
weeks later they met again. The fote of their country hung upon 
their acts. The excitement reached Philadelphia. Her tea-ships 
had not yet arrived, and she awaited, breathlessly, the news from 
Boston. The days came and went ; a week glided by and still there 
wei'e no tidings ; when suddenly, at two o'clock in the afternoon of 



i 



I 



THE BOSTON ^^ TEA-PA BTY" SPEECH. Q'J 

Docombor 24, a courier came riding in, post liaste, bringing great 
news. By five o'clock that day the town was all alive. Men gath- 
ered in the streets to tell, with glowing cheeks, how their brethren 
of Boston, coming in from twenty miles around, had packed old 
Faneuil Hall as it was never filled before, until it became necessary, 
owing to the crowd, to adjourn to the old South Church, — to that 
building which, but the other day, saved from destruction as if by 
miracle, has earned another title to your gratitude and veneration, 
— and there, as the winter's afternoon Avore on, counselled together 
what to do: until at last, finding no other course left open, and 
roused by the eloquence of their leaders, — above all, sir, by the 
burning words of him whdse honored name you bear, — they poured 
into the streets, and through the early dusk to Griffin's wharf to 
make the night immortal ! Two days after Christmas the tea-ships 
anchored near Philadelphia. At an hour's notice five thousand men 
gathered in town-meeting. The consignees were forced to resign, 
and the captains, alarmed at the steadfastness of the people, turned 
their prows seaward and sailed away forever. Thus did Boston 
follow the example of Philadelphia, and again Philadelphia that of 
Boston, both animated by a noble devotion to tlie common cause. A 
century has passed away, and I confess, Mr. Chairman, that that 
seems to me a beautiful sentiment, and one which savors of the 
spirit of that olden time, wliich has led the Philadelphians to choose 
to celebrate this night, and gather, as they soon will do, in a gigan- 
tic tea-party in memory of the glorious deed of Boston. It is in the 
power of Boston, sir, to reciprocate this feeling and return this com- 
pliment; and of this — in the few moments which remain to me — I 
wish to speak. As it was your fortune to rock the cradle of liberty, 
it was Philadelphia's to guard that of Independence. Here, in your 
Faneuil Ilall, the corner-stone was laid -, there, in her State House, 
the edifice was crowned. This anniversary belongs to you ; another 
anniversary belongs to her. And now that we are face to face with 
the one hundredth birthday of the nation, Philadelphia has been 
chosen as the spot of its celebration. She is, so to speak, the trustee 
for the whole country, and the guardian there, as you are here, of 
our common treasures. The President, by direction of Congress, 
has named the time and place. He has appointed commissioners for 
every State and Territory ; he has authorized them to raise money 
for the purpose of holding a great exhibition : he has invited all the 



68 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

nations of the earth. In Philadelphia, on the 4th of last July, in 
the presence of the chief men of the nation and of many States, of 
representatives from every corner of the Union, and of tens of thou- 
sands of the people, were solemnly dedicated to the Centennial four 
hundred and fifty acres of land. There, in less than three years, 
will an international exhibitiim rise, more remarkable than any 
which the world has seen. Not London in 1851, or Paris in '67, 
when the doomed empire put forth its might to show to the world 
the wealth and power of France, nor that exhibition which has 
drawn the eyes of all men to Vienna during the present year, will 
compare with it. They represented nothing but internal progress; 
the Centennial will commemorate a great principle and an era in the 
social, political, and moral development of man ! There will the past 
and present meet and converse; there will be spread before you the 
products of agriculture and the mine, — of industry and skill, — the 
discoveries of science, the masterpieces of art, the riches of all 
nations, the treasures of the earth and sea ! There will the rice and 
cotton of the South, the grain of the AVest, Pennsylvania's iron, and 
the manufactures of Massachusetts bo displayed before the world, 
where, beneath a gigantic roof more than forty acres in extent, the 
men of every race and clime jostle in the crowded avenue ! I re- 
member that Alciphron, the sophist, declined the invitation of his 
friend King Ptolemy to make his home in Egypt in these words : 
' For where in Egypt shall I behold the things which I see daily 
around me here ? Where else shall I behold the mysteries of our 
holy religion, the straits where the ever-mcmora])le battle was 
fought that delivered Greece, — the neighboring Salamis, — in a word, 
the whole of Greece concentrated at Athens?' IIow much more will 
the American of 1876, standing in the birthplace of the nation, and 
beholding the monuments of her power and her greatness, seem to 
see the whole history and progress of his country concentrated at 
Philadelphia! But besides the exhibition, which will illustrate the 
progress of the century and be but temporary, there is to be erected 
a memorial hall, — a monument of the first centennial. Beautiful 
in design and of enduring materials, it will stand there forever, a 
national museum, the pride of Americans, the wonder of strangers, 
the admiration of posterity, until, perhaps, at a second centennial, 
its beauties will pale before the glories of that distant time. But 
not in these alone will the American centennial be complete. There 



THE BOSTON '' TEA-PARTY" SPEECH. Qg 

will 1)0 a solemn commemoration of the great anniversary. Of this 
I dare not trust myself to speak. What tongue shall tell the story 
of that clay? Who shall paint the picture that will then be spread 
before the nations ? Thirteen little colonies grown to thirty-seven 
sovereign States, — a weak confederacy, held together by pressure 
from without, become a mighty republic, taming the new world in a 
century ! Man's capacity for self-government no longer an experi- 
ment, — three million men increased to neai-ly forty million, gather- 
ing at their country's birthplace on its one hundredth anniversary ! 
What voice shall worthily describe the scene when the dawn of that 
day shall at last have broken, and the heavily-laden hours pass on 
towai'ds high noon, and the American people, reunited, return 
thanks to God and to its fathers? Will it not be a grander consum- 
mation than they ever dreamed of who used to stand here where I 
stand to-night and teach their countrymen the path that led to it? 
Will it not far exceed the picture which their fancy painted when 
they sought to stir the hearts around them with visions of the time 
to come? Will it not seem to fulfil the prophecy of your own John 
Adams, when, on the evening of that eventful day, while his great 
mind — as Bancroft says — ' heaved like the ocean after a storm,' he 
sat down and wrote to his devoted wife : ' This will be the most 
memorable epoch in the history of America, — to be celebrated by all 
succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival ; commemo- 
rated as the day of deliverance by solemn acts of devotion to 
Almighty God, from one end of the continent to the other, from this 
time forward for evermore' ? Do you ask me what results we may 
expect from this ? I need not tell you of the advantage that will 
come to all alike ; to evei'y man and woman and child, — in opening 
new avenues for enterprise and industry and skill. I need not 
speflk of the knowledge we shall gain when we shall have compared 
ourselves with each other and with other nations, nor of the increased 
wealth which that knowledge shall bring. I need not talk of the 
reputation we shall achieve when the world shall have seen us as 
we are, nor of the power and influence that will flow from all this. 
I love rather at a time like this to speak of nobler things. I look to 
this centennial for grand results. I look to it to bind up the days 
of old with those to come, and teach Americans that, henceforth and 
forever, they are not only a nation of promise, but also a nation of 
fulfilment, not only a people of the future, but also a people of the 



70 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

past. It will join the corners of the land in friendship ; it will re- 
unite this people as nothing else can, and blot out the memory of 
calamitous times ; it will arouse us from the apathy which weighs 
upon us, and remind us that we owe a duty to our country as well 
as to ourselves ; it will arm us against the temptations that are 
luring us to destruction, the love of ease, the appetite for power, the 
lust for gold ; it will awaken in us a truer spirit, and purify our 
pride ; it will teach us how much that is good, how much that is 
grand and noble other nations have accomplished for humanity ; it 
will make us a better people. It will soften the national heart; it 
will broaden the national view; it will deepen the national thought; 
it will strengthen the national life ! And these results alone will 
be worth all the labor or the money that can be expended. I 
could name as many more, but I have already spoken quite too 
long, and I must close. Such, in a word, my countrymen, is the 
task which Philadelphia has undertaken. She has begun the work, 
and there is no turning back. But she cannot do it solitary and 
alone. It is the duty of all the States of the whole country. It con- 
cerns them all alike. It is a great national undertaking. Now, at 
the very mitset, she asks your sympathy and aid. Of all her sister 
cities, she turns the first to you. You can help the Centennial in a 
thousand ways, — in your families, among your friends, and in the 
communities in which you live, as a people, as a city, as a State. 
You can talk of it, give to it, work for it, pray for it. Philadelphia 
asks it not for her sake, but for your own and for our country's. 
She asks it in the name of all that you have endured together in the 
days gone by, in the name of that progress which the Centennial 
will illustrate, of those labors which it will complete, of those virtues 
which it will commemorate, of those sacrifices which it will sanctify; 
in the name of that freedom whose anniversary it will consecrate, — 
which came to us from God. 

" I know, my countrymen, that she does not appeal to you in 
vain. I might dou])t in other places, but not here. I do not forget 
to whom, nor where I speak. I look into the eyes of men who have 
the blood of the leaders of our early times, and the spot on which I 
stand is holy ground. I have an abiding faith in this people and in 
this place. The air is full of waking memories. Whatever in this 
dying century there has been of good, of noble endeavor, of self- 
sacrifice, of honor, of truth ; whatever, in a word, has contributed 



THE "MERCHANTS' FUND" SPEECH. 71 

to the greatness and happiness of man seems, at this moment, to rise 
up out of its grave instinct with life. In the august presence of this 
anniversary the spell that holds them dumb is broken, and, from 
eJich crevice in this ancient hall, come forth ten thousand tongues 
to plead with mine I They speak to you, to whom it has been 
given to share the blessings of the century that is about to close. 
They speak to you, to whom it may be vouchsafed to see the glories 
of the century that is about to open. They tell us of a past, honor- 
able, sanctified, complete ; and on this threshold of the future they 
teach us, with the voice of inspiration, that lie whom our fathers 
worshipped will hear the supplications of their children, and — truer 
than the imagined gods of pagan story — maintain, through all the 
generations yet to come, the virtue, happiness, and power of the 
republic." [Applause.] 

This speech, even among addresses of more distinguished 
men, was characterized as " brilliant." In the language of 
a correspondent who had good opportunity to study the 
audience, " it made a delightful impression." 

We must now turn aside for a while from the current of 
the great Centennial to notice some other events and ora- 
torical labors. The first of these, occurring at the beginning 
of the year 1874, is of a very pleasing character. Having 
made the discovery of Mr. Brown's gifts, his fellow-citizens 
seemed determined to call them into constant requisition ; 
and his next service was in behalf of The Merchants' Fund 
of Philadelphia, an association incorporated in 1854, whose 
purpose, as defined in the second article of its charter, is 
" To furnish relief to indigent merchants of the city of 
Philadelphia, especially such as are aged and infirm." The 
twentieth annual meeting of this society was held on the 
evening of January 27, 1874, before a large assemblage at 
the Academy of Music. Mr. Brown was the third regular 
speaker on the occasion, and was thus introduced by Mr. 
Frederick Fraley, the chairman of the meeting : 



72 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

"We have heard the Church speak for our charity, we 
have heard the Merchant speak for our charity, and now 
we are to hear the Law speak for our charity. I know that 
merchants depend often upon the lawyers for good counsel 
and good guidance through their troubles, and I know that 
the eloquent gentleman whom I am about to introduce to 
you can represent properly the much-abused profession of 
the law. I have the honor of introducing my friend, Mr. 
Henry Armitt Brown." His address was a thoughtful and 
elaborately prepared production. Among friendly notices 
was the following from the Philadelphia Press : " Our 
young orator talked like an old statesman. He applies 
what he draws from the past to the necessities of the present. 
He has an axiomatic style. Few men of his age have gone 
back to borrow from the old examples, and forward to wel- 
come the new inspirations, with a happier faculty. There 
is in the address a model for the young men of our day, 
and the merchants for whom he spoke could have had no 
better interpreter of their sj)lendid benevolence." 

But more stirring times in politics were at hand. Reeling 
blows were to be given and received. The Municipal Re- 
form question once again rose to prominence and agitated 
the whole community. The efforts of the party of reform, 
who were ever steadily at work, had already brought about 
positive results. The contest in Pennsylvania over the new 
constitution had been fought and won by the friends of reform 
by a majority of over one hundred and forty-five thousand. 
The introduction of needed changes by the new State consti- 
tution had, as was supposed, made the municipalities com- 
j)aratively independent; had destroyed the capacities for evil 
of the Legislature; had rendered fraud more difficult to per- 
petrate; had insured fairer elections; had lessened the oppor- 
tunities for plunder. Their success, however, injured them. 



MUNICIPAL REFORM. 73 

Tlie Reform partv, " unused to being on the Manning side," 
had grown lax. The party in power thereupon had redoubled 
their efforts, and had renominated the w'hole ticket of those 
who were then incumbents. The boldness of this move- 
ment, in the face of all that had been established by 
reform, together with the detecting of actual frauds in the 
recent election, reawakened the energies of the independent 
party, and, after nnicli discussion, they nominated Alexander 
K. McClure for the mayoralty of Philadelphia. This nomi- 
nation aroused enthusiasm and opposition. Mr. McClure 
was well known to be a man of great force and of unusual 
power of attack. He was distasteful to some of the leaders 
of the independent movement itself, but he was supported 
heartily by the great majority of the Reform party, composed 
of Republicans and Democrats, who Avere determined to 
break the " ring" by using a powerful instrument. Enor- 
mous mass-meetings were organized, which were character- 
ized by unexampled enthusiasm. At these meetings, and 
es]iecially at the great ratification meeting held at Horti- 
cultural Hall on the evening of March 31, 1874, McClure 
was the principal speaker ; and his speeches were really 
wonderful specimens of boldness, originality, sarcasm, and 
a kind of resistless Dantonesque eloquence. No less weighty, 
though calmer in tone, were the speeches of Mr. Brown, 
who threw himself into this election contest with all his 
strength. If the best men of the Republican party held 
back and demurred at coming up to the mark as candidates, 
he did not wait for them nor spend time "in searching for 
angels," but, taking whom he believed to be the most avail- 
able man for aggressive reform purposes, he fought for him 
with all his might. Thus on the evening of February 4, 
he made a rough-and-ready speech for reform at Oxford 
Hall, in the Twenty-ninth Ward, in which he declared that 



74 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARM ITT BROWN. 

the world-wide reputation of Philadelphia for being a clean 
city, "so clean that you could eat your dinner in the streets," 
was a bygone tradition, and the only ones who could eat 
their dinners in the streets now were the hogs. These were 
the city scavengers. He showed the gradual multiplication 
of abuses, the steady increase of municipal indebtedness, 
and the peculiar method of taxation to secure the largest 
revenue from the taxpayers. He set forth the excessive 
valuations upon j^roperty, the steady growth of the tax-rate, 
the undue increase of taxation as onerous, both upon the 
rich property-holder and the poor tenant, because the latter 
was obliged to pay the tax in rent, and the fact that there 
was no due return for this increased taxation, the city being 
more badly kept, the water facilities being poorer, and the 
lighting more defective, and that while each citizen was en- 
titled to the seven hundred and fiftieth part of a policeman, 
yet not more than the one-fiftieth part of that fraction 
was allowed him. But the two principal speeches that he 
made during this short and sharp campaign for Centennial 
mayor deserve to be more fully recorded : the first, at Ger- 
mantown, Pennsylvania, February 7, from its boldness, 
pungency, and wit; and the second, at Horticultural Hall, 
in Philadelphia, a week afterwards, a briefer sj^eech, from 
its incidental exhibition of character. We have only space 
for the second shorter speech : 

"Fellow-Citizens, — I shall not speak to you at length to-night, for 
I am not well, and there are many other speakers on this platform. 
It seems to me impossible to exaggerate the importance of this contest. 
It is all very well for our opponents to tell us that there is nothing 
to he decided on Tuesday next but whether Mr. Stokley or Mr. 
McClure shall be mayor of Philadelphia. It is to their interest to 
tell us so, and try to make the people believe it, but it is all a great 
mistake. [Applause.] The men who tell you that don't think so 
themselves ; they don't understand the people of this city, and have 



SPEECH AT HORTICULTURAL HALL. 75 

not understood them for a long time past. They have taken mildness 
for cowardice, patience for fear, forbearance for stupidity. They 
have underrated you and overrated themselves, and the time for be- 
lieving them has long passed away. [Here a disturbance broke out 
in the gallery. One of Mayor Stokley's policemen having expressed 
his disapproval of the speaker's sentiments, there were loud cries of 
"Put him out!" Mr. B. called out, "Let hira alone ; he'll vote all 
right on Tuesday." The audience laughed and the speaker pro- 
ceeded.] That wonderful meeting of the 31st of January was some- 
thing more than a political demonstration. It was the outgrowth of 
the times. It was the natural result of years of misgovernment ; it 
was the protest against a corrupt tyranny of an abused and plun- 
dered people ! It was the uprising of honest men against a system 
which had fastened itself upon them until it seemed as if there was 
no shaking it off; it was the beginning of a new era in Philadelphia. 
[Cheers.] And so I repeat, as I look this vast audience in the face, 
that it is impossible to exaggerate the importance of this contest. 
There is not a man within sound of my voice who doesn't know in 
his heart how important a day to him, and all of us, the 17th of Feb- 
ruary will be. It is not a question simply of the mayoralty, of the 
success of this man or the other; it is a question whether the people 
shall have its own again, or whether this great city shall forever 
hereafter be absolutely governed by a few bad men. [Applause.] 
This is the question f )r you to decide. You cannot escape it ; it is a 
responsibility yon cannot shirk. You must perpetuate the present 
state of tilings or destroy it now forever. [Applause.] And while 
the contest seems to me to be the most important in the history of 
Philadelphia, there never was a greater contrast between two parties. 
It is a battle between regulars and militia; but the regulars are de- 
moralized and disheartened, and the militia have enthusiasm and 
overwhelming numbers. [Cheers.] It is a struggle between the 
politicians and the people, but Right and Virtue are on the people's 
side. [Applause.] You have, in the first place, on the one hand, a 
non-partisan nomination. [Cheering.] The event of thirteen days 
ago, which made this place historic, was the spontaneous outburst 
of a general sentiment in this community. The people, outraged 
and betrayed, found here at last a leader [applause], and the great 
effort to lift the affaii-s of Philadelphia out of the field of national 
politics took then a form. You have, I say, in Colonel McClure's 



76 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

iioiiiination an attemjit to break up partisan control and rally the 
honest men of all parties on the side of good government. And how- 
has tliis canvass been conducted? Night after night he goes about 
from hall to hall in every part of this great city to talk to the mul- 
titudes who cram them, even on such rainy Avinter nights as this, — to 
talk fairly and frankly, — to tell them why they need reform (if any 
men can be found in this city to believe that we do not need it), and 
to point them to a safe deliverance. [Cheers.] lie is supported in 
this by men of both parties. At every meeting at which I have had 
the good fortune to be present I have heard Democrats and Repub- 
licans talking to the people, side by side and shoulder to shoulder in 
the common cause. He is supported by a newspaper which has not 
yet contained a falsehood or an unfair argument, or an ungenerous 
personal attack. Day after day in every part of it you see the same 
thing; in its editorials, in the speeches which it contains, and which 
I believe the people read [applause], unanswertxble arguments in 
favor of reform. It is frank, it is honest, it speaks the simple truth, 
and if there should be no other result in the contest Philadelphians 
should thank The Press for showing them the rare example of an 
honest, independent newspaper. [Grca^t applause.] Money we have 
little, barely enough to pay from day to day the expenses of our 
meetings and the advertising bills of hostile newspapers : but the 
money that comes hourly in snuill sums from the people proves that 
there still lingers in this community a love of courage and inde- 
pendence, and that the people of Philadelphia know well enough in 
whose victory their safety lies. [Api)lause.] Thus, day by day, 
night after night, the fight goes on ; the people i-ead, and listen, and 
reflect, and the cause of their enemies grows steadily more desper- 
ate. [Applause.] The nomination of Mr. Stokley is a partisan 
nomination forced on the party by a few of its managers. And how 
do they conduct their part of this campaign? They have control of 
every office and all the patronage of power. They command a small 
army of office-holders, and boast that they own a large contingent 
force of colored voters. They draw immense sums of money for all 
imaginable expenses from innumerable sources. By a skilful use 
of every means they scatter broadcast partisan newspapers and false 
tax receipts [applause], and, as I see to-night, beautiful engravings, 
accompanied by biograpliies. [Laughter.] The carefully prepared 
accounts of their meetings, with immense lists of vice-presidents, 



SPEECH AT HORTICULTURAL HALL. 77 

many of whom are openly supporting Colonel McClure, are dis- 
tributed by the policemen in every portion of the city. They rake 
up stale slanders, dead and buried fifteen years ago, and parade 
their mouldei'ing relics in the charnel-house of a Sunday newspaper, 
and, notwithstanding that the refutation comes at once from the 
author of the slanderous article himself, they continue to slip the 
paper, marked with colored pencils, under honest men's doors while 
they are asleep. In place of arguments they give you slanders ; 
they answer reason with abuse, the jjrotest of the people with a party- 
cry [applause], and not content with announcing themselves at every 
meeting as the exclusive possessors of every virtue, each one cling- 
ing desperately to the much-alnised prefix of ' the Honorable,' they 
unite in calling the independent movement of the people of this 
great city to destroy the power which has made their city govern- 
ment a disgrace among their countrymen and choose a ruler for 
themselves — the audacious attempt to seize power of ' the criminal 
classes.' [Cheers.] They harp forever on a single string ; and, as 
many a fellow in a scrape has done before, they think to divert 
attention from themselves by calling out 'Police!' [Laughter.] 
It is not surprising, my friends, that they should take this course. 
The men Avho have governed Philadelphia for the past few years are 
capable of anything but good. [Cheers.] They have crept into 
power through the apathy of some inen and the partisanship of 
others. They have grown to believe themselves the natural rulers of 
the people, they have used their offices for their own good and that of 
their associates ; they have ruled you with an absolute sway. What 
wonder is it then that they should use every nieans, and with the 
lowest means they are the most familiar, to defeat your efi'ort to 
throw off their weight and try to perpetuate forever their ill-used 
power! "What wonder that the men who were caught in the act of 
defrauding you but a few Aveeks ago, who have persistently declined 
to investigate that 'hole' [laughter], who have the audacity to ask 
you to prolong their power by the very votes of which for years they 
have deprived you [applause], should go but a step further and call 
themselves honorable and the people of Philadelphia the criminal 
classes! [Cheers.] Do they answer our arguments? No. Do 
they reply to our questions? No. Do they deny that our debt is 
steadily increasing; that our taxation has quadrupled; that rents 
are forced up and great industries driven from our city ; that the 



78 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

people are deceived and plundered right and left; that groat public 
improvements are often turned into great private jobs ; that the 
offices of the city are in unworthy hands ; that they whom you have 
trusted have deceived you ; whom you have honored have betrayed 
you ; whom you have made yonr servants have sought to be your 
masters? Do they deny any of these things? Fellow-citizens, no. 
They content themselves with one general answer: That the safety 
of this city demands the success of the Republican party, that Mr. 
Stokley is not at all the kind of man for mayor, but that he has 
given you a good police. [Laughter.] The safety of Philadelphia 
depends upon no party, and upon the success of no party candidate. 
[Cheers.] It rests on the character and intelligence of its citizens, 
and if they be content to be ruled by men of neither ability nor 
character, to intrust the control of their public affiiirs to those to 
whom few of them would commit their private business, no Repub- 
lican nor any other party can save their city from destruction. 
[Applause.] Ci)rruption is a disease of rapid growth, and for it 
there is but a single cure. [Cheers.] I don't object to Mr. Stokley 
as a man. That he has raised himself to a place of prominence in 
this community, if the means he has always made use of have been 
beyond a question, should be in this country especially an honor to 
him. It is — or let me say it should he — the peculiar pride of Ameri- 
cans that here, under our free institutions, there is for every man a 
chance, and no aristocracy is recognized but an aristocracy of brains 
and character. [Applause.] Nor do I object to Mr. Stokley because 
he is a politician. I do not share the usual contempt of men for that 
much-abused title. It is in itself an honorable name. There can 
be no profession more honorable, short of the ministry of Christ, 
than the profession of politician : but of politician in its nobler, 
better sense. To devote great talents and lofty character to the 
common good, to consecrate great powers to the service of the State, 
to stand up in her defence unmoved alike by the fickle winds of 
favor or the tempests of adversity, to act from no motive but love 
of the common weal, — this is to be a politician and a statesman 
[applause], though small men, by the practice of low, selfish arts, 
have dragged both names down into disgrace. I say I object to Mr. 
Stokley not because he is a politician and has taken an active part 
in the affairs of his division and his ward, for that is what every 
patriotic American should do. [Applause.] 



SPEECH AT HORTICULTURAL HALL. 79 

"But I do object to him because he is identified with bad govern- 
ment in Philadelpliia. [Loud apphiuse.] Because he is an instru- 
ment in the hands and to-day the chief representative of a band of 
politicians who have been tried and long ago found wanting [ap- 
plause] ; who have plundered this people and lowered the tone of 
public morals ; who have done more to drag down the name of poli- 
tician, and prevent the rise of talent and of honest worth, than any 
class of men who ever ruled a city. [Great applause.] Talk of the 
old Greek tyrannies, of oligarchs, and the thirty tyrants who poisoned 
Socrates and banished honest men from Athens! This is a more 
frightful tyranny. This is an enlightened age. These are the days 
of newspapers, the teachers of morality to the people, of commou 
schools, of the railroad and the telegraph. It is a tyranny over mind 
as well as body ; it is an organized attempt to exclude all independ- 
ence, all character, all ability, from any share of power, and prosti- 
tute the highest offices to the lowest purposes. [Cheers.] This is 
why the Ring rulers of Philadelphia draw the line so low, — they 
know that to lift their standard half an inch on the scale of ability 
or honesty would be forever to exclude themselves. [Great ap- 
plause.] This is why they shut up every avenue to honor in this 
city and force all aspirants for power to follow in their train. This 
is why they fight all good reforms; why they conduct this canvass 
with slander and abuse, — because they have determined that no man 
of character, ability, or independence shall ever rule in Philadelphia. 
[Applause.] 

"Between him and them they know there must be warfare unto 
death, and they ai'e bound, if it be possible, to drive such men for- 
ever out of puljlic life. It is a necessity of their being, — it is their 
only safeguard in the future, to make a canvass so low, so degrading, 
so revolting to every sense of right, that no man in the future whom 
you may ask to serve you will be willing to subject himself and his 
family to the horrors of a canvass before the people of Philadelphia ! 
[Applause.] I remember to have read that when a great man was 
attacked by his enemies who sought to banish him from Athens, he 
met a citizen who asked him to write his name on a vote in favor of 
his banishment. 'What has he done to oS"end you?' asked the 
statesman. ' Nothing,' replied the man, who did not know the other; 
' but I want him banished because I hate to hear a man always called 
the Good and Just.' It is this state of feeling among the people of 



80 MEMOIR OF HEART ARMITT BROWN. 

Philadelphia which these men hope to foster and to cultivate, — in 
spite of good examples, — in spite of schools and newspapers, — in 
spite of all the teachings of the past. And it is this system which 
you will perpetuate if you re-elect Mr. Stokley. [Applause.] You 
will say amen to all the past and set the seal of your approval on 
the present municipal government and postpone deliverance perhaps 
for a generation or perhaps forever. [Applause.] And think, my 
friends, what a lesson you teach the young men of Philadelphia! 
Remember, you who are old men, that your children did not see 
the times when this city was governed by her best and ablest citizens ; 
when (it is but thirty or forty years ago) you sent to your Councils 
men like Joseph R. Chandler [applause], and Frederick Fraley [ap- 
plause], and Joseph G. Clarkson [applause], and George Sharswood 
[applause], and Henry J. AVilliams [applause], and Peter McCall 
[applause] ; when they were presided over by James Page [ap- 
plause], and Joseph R. Ingersoll [applause], and William Bradford 
[great applause], and your Select Council for nearly sixteen years 
by no less a man than AVilliam Morris Meredith. [Great applause.] 
Remember, I repeat, we have never seen such times as those, and 
you know the influence of l)ad example upon youth. Perpetuate this 
Ring and you say to tlie young men of Philadelphia, — ' Honesty is 
not the Itest policy ; it is all a lie. The lust of power and greed for 
gold, — these are the noblest sentiments that can move the human 
heart. The people of Philadelphia want nothing better than selfish 
politicians to rule over them. Purity is weakness, — honest men are 
fools. To be patriotic is to be insane, — to have ability is to be over- 
burdened in the race of life. To be a man of culture is to be a snob!' 
[Great cheering.] This is the lesson which Mayor Stokley's re-elec- 
tion will teach ; and on you will rest the responsibility of teaching 
it. [Applause.] And do not doubt that your children will better 
the instruction. My fellow-citizens, in less than three years the eyes 
of all men will be turned to Philadelphia. The celebration of a 
great event will bring to your city the representatives of every race. 
Then, when they shall gather reverently about the birthplace of 
your liberty, — when, on that great anniversary, men of all nations 
shall stand in Independence Hall and gaze upon the portraits of 
Adams, and Jefferson, and Washington, Benjamin Franklin, and 
your own Robert Morris, will you have them say : ' Begun and ended 
in an hundred years ! This people had every blessing which Provi- 



RESULT OF ELECTION IX ^' PENN MONTHLY.'' 81 

ilence could bestow, — and threw it to the winds; Prosperity, — and 
they trampled it under foot ; Power, — and they bartered it away ; 
Liberty, — and they sold her into bondage ; Virtue, — and they drove 
her from among them ! In all things they were fortunate, and 
in all things unworthy. AVhat is gold without honor? What is 
America without that which chiefly constitutes a State, — an honest 
man?' [Continued cheering.] My fellow-citizens, it is for you alone 
to decide the future of your country. But if you would be true to 
the teachings of your fathers, true to your duty to posterity, decide 
aright the question now hanging on your acts, and let the sun go 
down next Tuesday afternoon upon a redeemed city, in a regenerated 
Commonwealth." [Great and continued applause.] 

The result of this hard-fouo-iit election is given in ]\Ir. 
Brown's words in the March number of the Penn Monthly, 
1874. He writes: 

"It Avas a struggle between enthusiasm and organization, and the 
latter triumphed, as it generally will. On election day the First 
Ward and the Tenth were literally taken possession of by repeaters, 
and the Democratic districts, under the lead of statesmen like Mr. 

and the Hon. , declined to give the usual Democratic 

majorities. The command of unlimited means enaljled the party 
in power to scatter messengers and extras of newspapers with 
imaginary returns in every quarter of the city. A panic was thus 
produced, and the innumerable company of men upon the fence, 
hesitating how to exercise the inaliena1)le right of freemen, jumped 
down with one accord upon the Stokley side. In a poll of nearly 
one hundred and eleven thousand the Republican candidate had 
about eleven thousand majority. It has become so customary after 
elections in this country for the defeated party to raise the cry of 
fraud that it has quite lost its significance, and seems to be a sequel 
to every political contest. In this case, however, the fraud was not 
of the kind with which we have become familiar under the registry 
law ; it was perpetrated rather through personation and repeating 
than l)y false count, though in some cases where the minority in- 
spector could be bought, that also was indulged in, but it is not reas- 
suring to find that the safeguards which the new constitution Avas 
supposed to throw about the ballot do not avail to secure to Philadel- 



82 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

phia a fair and free election. It is doubtful, however, whether an 
election can be held in a large city without the commission of fraud, 
for we hear at the present time of much trouble arising from it in 
England, and in France elections are no purer than elsewhere. So 
ended the most brilliant contest of which Philadelpiiia has been the 
scene, and at this writing the triumph of those who opposed the new 
constitution and were sixty days ago wearing sackcloth and ashes, 
their knees knocking together under them for fear, seems complete. 
The most peculiar feature of the case is the want of enthusiasm with 
Avhich the success of the Ring is hailed by its most respectable sup- 
porters. It is a victory over which there has been little exultation, 
a triumph over which there have been tears." 

The Penn Monthly Magazine had for many years been 
carried on by a number of young Philadelphians in the 
interest of social, political, and educational science, aiming, 
above all, at the thoughtful diffusion of true principles of 
government and political rights. Mr, Brown found a 
corner in this publication, and for four or five years of his 
life he was editor of the department entitled the " Month." 
This consisted of disconnected articles, sometimes only 
paragraphs, upon subjects of passing but not fleeting in- 
terest, as he often headed his remarks, " It is not designed 
to discuss here all the chief topics of current interest, but 
only those upon which we have something to say." Here, 
as learnedly or lightly, just, in fact, as he felt at the mo- 
ment, he touched the salient points of characters and events. 
Up to this period a great variety of subjects (though they 
grew to be more and more of a political nature) had been 
treated in a crisp way, — the new German empire; the old 
Catholic congress ; financial questions and paper money ; 
English high-churchism ; Mr. Froude and Father Burke; 
republicanism in Spain ; the epizootic; the Siamese twins ; 
the electoral vote for President ; Agassiz ; Bismarck ; 
McMahon; government appointments; Grant's adminis- 



COXTBIBUTIONS TO " PENN MONTHLY." 83 

tratioii ; Credit 3Iobilicr ; the currency bill; strikes in 
England ; municipal reform ; civil service reform ; the 
coming Centennial Exposition ; and a vast many other 
themes of more or less importance. We shall have occa- 
sion to quote from the "Month." Two or three specimens 
of these literary improvisations may give some idea of 
their character. Their estimate of men and things is not 
always as " all think." 

" The death of Charles Sumner ends at once all controversy in 
reference to his recent unpopular course in tlie Senate, and recalls 
only his great services to the nation in his earlier and better years. 
lie was a thoroughly educated man, and his whole life was an 
instance of the result of culture in a man of not uncommon gifts. 
Besides a fine personal appearance, nature had not bestowed on 
Mr. Sumner many strong qualities either of mind or judgment. 
He was from the outset, and he remained to the last, a diligent, 
patient, exhaustive student, and his work at the bar, in the Senate, 
and on the stump. — though it seems to class his elegant oratory 
with the effusions of our ordinary politicians, — was always the 
result of hard, steady application. As a Lawyer he reported and 
edited the opinions of others ; he lectured on law at Harvard Col- 
lege, and wrote a pamphlet on the Oregon question, but he gained 
no great distinction at the bar. His entry into political life was in 
opposition, and he showed to best advantage in his persistent advo- 
cacy of the abolition of slavery and in the establishment of equal 
rights to the coloi*ed race. His addresses in and out of the Senate 
were labored, careful, and thorough, but had little of the fire of 
eloquence or the force of conviction in them. But in them, as in 
his whole life, he was honest, open, straightforward, and persistent. 
He alone in the Senate of the United States maintained the ti-adi- 
tions of the orators of an earlier day, as one who had united 
scholarly eloquence with active political partisanship, and with him 
the race of great public speakers seems at an end. Contrasted with 
Clay and Webster, it is clear that he had little of their innate fire 
and genius, but measured by the standard of the colleagues of to- 
day, there is no one of them who could cope with him in the sort 
of studied oratory which he made his own to the very last. But 



84 MEMOIR OF HENRY A R MITT BROWN. 

his best and highest quality as a citizen and as a Senator was his 
inflexible honesty. It never occurred to him that he could be asked 
or expected to do anything that would sully his character, and no 
man ever suspected him of any but honest motives in all he did. 
His love of literature led him into kindred pursuits of art, and his 
collection of books and pictures, of rare engravings and sculpture, 
was such as showed the nicest taste and the most refined culture. 
In this, too, he stood almost alone, for his colleagues in Congress 
are too deeply immersed in the business of politics to have any time 
for the cultivation of their intellects. As a representative, therefore, 
of the best culture of the country, his loss will be felt in Washington 
and in Boston. The incidents of his life are too well known to be 
rehearsed here, and his death is too recent for an impartial judgment 
of his merits as a statesman and of his services to his country. His 
example of honesty in the midst of corruption, of courage in the face 
of bitter hostility, may well efface the painful recollections of the 
later years of his life, embittered by ill health and domestic griefs." 

There are many publislied statements and utterances of 
Mr. Brown which show that he held in high esteem the 
memory and cliaracter of liini wliose " empty chair" was 
for so long the most eloquent speech in the Senate of the 
United States. 

"The counting of the electoral vote for President and Vice-Presi- 
dent has brought to public notice the dangers and absurdities of the 
present system of choosing our Chief Magistrate, and the consequent 
propriety of sweeping changes in the Constitution. The main pur- 
pose of tlie authors of our present arrangements has been entirely 
defeated by the shape that partisan organizations and methods have 
taken, and the cumbersome machinery of the electoral colleges now 
serves no purpose whatever. It is to be hoped that this is not the 
only part of the Constitution that will be changed. Let the Presi- 
dential term be extended to ten years and a re-election forbidden. 
Bring all civil officials, except members of the Cabinet and foreign 
ministers, under the tenure of office that now applies to the judges — 
'for life or good behavior.' And abolisli all tlie local restrictions 
that prevent citizens of one State from being elected to the service 
of another, either in the State government or in Congress. This 



CONTRIBUTIONS TO '' PENN MONTHLY:' 85 

last amendment would do much to give breadth and true nationality 
of spirit to our pultlic men. It would deter men of foresight from 
giving themselves up to the petty and selfish aims of a district, by 
the hope that their self-denial and really public spirit would meet 
with appreciation elsewhere ; ' a prophet has honor save in his own 
country and in his father's house.' It would relieve our younger 

and weaker States from the necessity of sending , , and 

other corruptibilities and vacuities to the United States Senate, with- 
out impairing beyond measure the care exercised by Congressmen to 
promote the special interests of their constituents. As it is, Congress- 
men are mere local erran<l-boys to tlie national struggle for the loaves 
and the fishes, and Ruskin's gibe was not without its truth : 'There 
is no res puhlica in America, only a multitudinous res 2}rivat(e.'' " 

" Governor Dix, of New York, has fully justified those who built 
their hopes upon his firmness and manliness of character. In re- 
fusing to commute the sentence of Foster he resisted as terrible a 
pressure as ever sought to sway a man's judgment. In a calm and 
earnest letter to Dr. Tyng, who was foremost in seeking to save 
Foster's life, the governor gives his reasons for doing what he con- 
ceives to be his duty. They are such as one would expect from him. 
With a tenderness that is morbid, for which we are remarkal)le in 
this country, we forget that when a jury has pronounced upon a 
man's guilt, and the courts have determined that he has been law- 
fully tried and found guilty, his punishment becomes a question of 
the execution of the laws. A jury is not required to consider the 
consequences, but the act itself, and to find, not whether a man 
shall be imprisoned for life or put to death, but whether or not he is 
guilty of the offence with which he is charged. For certain crimes 
the wisdom of mankind, directed and modified by experience, has 
fixed certain punishments, and he deserves well of his country who, 
unmoved by fear or favor and undismayed by responsibility, stands 
firmly by his duty, as he understands it, and executes the command 
of that law which is the safeguard of us all." 

" The Connecticut election is full of significance, and at the same 
time it is not. Connecticut is always an uncertain State, and this 
year the feuds among the Republican leaders, coupled with the 
strength of Governor Ingersoll and the prestige of his excellent 



86 MEMOIR OF HENRY A R MITT BROWN. 

administration, would have made the result doubtful in any case. 
But, on the other hand, the prize for which both parties were con- 
tending was not the governorship, which is open every year, but 
the seat in the Senate occupied for the past six years by Governor 
Buckingham. Under these circumstances the defeat of the Repub- 
licans is a severe blow. Their candidate this year was an excellent 
one, the leader of the bar in New Haven, and nothing was left 
undone to win success. But in Connecticut, as in some other States 
of the Union, many of the best men in the Republican ranks have 
become disheartened and disgusted ; and in such a state of feeling 
there seem to be worse things in this life than the defeat of one's 
party. Some stayed away from the polls, and others even voted 
against the ticket from the belief that a defeat, perhaps, would be 
beneficial punishment to the leaders of the party. It must be 
added, too, that the Democracy of Connecticut is of rather a liberal 
and practical kind. It is very apt to place good men before the 
people, and is not entirely incapable of taking advantage of its 
opponents' mistakes. It has courted, too, rather than repelled the 
advances of the Liberals and of discontented Republicans with evi- 
dent benefit to itself. Should the re-election of so admirable a 
governor as Mr. Ingersoll be followed by the choice of some equally 
good man as Mr. Buckingham's successor, there will be no occasion 
to regret this Republican defeat •, but there is great danger, from 
w^hat we hear, of the election of some one who will strengthen 
neither the State, the Senate, nor the cause of reform." 

" The French Assembly has had one or two strong debates. One 
of these occasions gave M. Gamljetta an opportunity, which he im- 
proved, to make a brilliant speech. But the day has gone by when 
a speech can affect the result of such contests. Where the feeling 
is marked, a striking figure or appeal may deepen it, as in the 
debate in which D'Audritfet-Pasquier likened Alsace and Lorraine 
to the lost legions of Varus, and roused the feelings of his hearers 
to the utmost ; but it is to be doubted if it is possible for any orator 
at the present day to overcome prejudice, or break to pieces by any 
power of speech the chains forged and riveted by political manage- 
ment and intrigue. 

" The system adopted here at home of carrying on legislative 
business forbids the cultivation of oratory by robbing it of practical 



HAS ORATORY GONE OUT? 87 

effect; the habit of writing speeches is de.ath to debate, and the 
customs now so successfully practised of lobbying and log-rolling 
put on the finishing touclies. The gift of eloquence is apt to be 
undervalued in a country where money is the standard of worth, 
and is sure to be despised by those who have it not. The taste of 
the age, too, is growing less favorable to speech-making, and the 
orations of M. Gambetta, and of Sefior Castelar, are far less effective 
now than they would have been fifty years ago. Oratory is going 
out with the romantic and the picturesque." 

That oratory is " going out," or has gone out, we do not 
believe. Mr. Carlyle may tell us that " silence is the eter- 
nal duty of man" ; but oratory is a fact of human nature. 
Macaulay suggests that the scientific intellect has usurped 
the place of the primitive emotions, and therefore great 
poets and orators are no longer the power they were. But 
it is the occasion which brings out the orator. In our 
recent stormy history, at one of the great war-meetings, a 
plain Connecticut governor, who had no conception that he 
would be called an orator, made the most eloquent address 
it was our fortune ever to hear. He cast rhetoricians be- 
hind his back. He turned men's minds as rivers of water 
are turned. In the time of need the orator or prophet 
appears. The man of heroic will, of cheerful hope, of the 
ready hand and the ready speech, who speaks out of a pas- 
sionate heart, who speaks wisely as well as courageously, 
then becomes the master influence. All obey because God 
breathes through him, and the truth is with him as a visible 
sceptre. Emerson says that " it is rare to find a man who 
believes his own thought or who speaks that which he was 
created to say" ; but when such a man appears there is the 
power to sway minds which we call eloquence. Our own 
orator, at all events, in spite of his Penn 3IonthIy theories, 
had not yet won his greatest triumph. That was to come, 
and was soon to come. 



88 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARM ITT BROWN. 

It was now nearly approaching the time when another 
important event in the country's history was to have its 
centennial anniversary ; and this time the scene was at home 
in Philadelphia. 

On the 5th of September, 1774, the first Continental 
Congress that had been called to deliberate upon the troubles 
which were growing more and more serious between the 
colonies and the parent country, met at Carpenters' Hall. 
This venerable building, so intimately associated with the 
Revolutionary period, was erected in 1768, by the Carpen- 
ters' Company of Philadelphia, which still occupies it, pre- 
serving its relics and its appearance, as far as possible, both 
within and without. " It stands in the centre of a little 
court, or cul-de-sac, a]:)proached from Chestnut Street by a 
narrow alley, between Third and Fourth Streets. It is of 
cruciform shape, two stories in height, surmounted by a 
cupola, and is constructed of red and l)laek bricks, in a 
style in vogue a century ago, — its checkered walls being in 
curious correspondence with its history. In general archi- 
tectural style it closely resembles Independence Hall. The 
plainness of the fa9ade is relieved somewhat by balustrades 
under the u])per M'indows, and by a portico in Doric style, 
which is called 'a frontispiece' in the old minutes of the 
company. For ' turning the columns of the frontispiece' 
Samuel Fletcher was paid, according to the minutes, the 
sum of tM'o pounds and three pence. The lot attached to 
the building originally extended out to Chestnut Street, and 
was leased at an annual ground-rent of ' 176 Spanish milled 
pieces of eight,' but it became too valuable for the company 
to retain, and they now hold only a few square yards of 
grass-plots and walks in front of the hall, and a narrow 
strip at the sides and rear. The huge bulk of the build- 
ings in front, upon the street, eclipses entirely the modest, 



THE ''CAIiPEXTEBS' HALL" ADDRESS. 89 

quaint okl hall, and its eventful history was almost as effec- 
tually eclipsed by the throng of recent events until the 
approach of the Centennial of American Independence 
brought it to notice." The chief interest attached to the 
hall arises from the fact that the first Continental Congress 
met there, and held its first and second sessions in the large 
room on the ground-floor of the building. The carpenters 
have a tradition that the Constitutional Convention met in 
the same room in 1789, and held there the whole of the 
four months' session during which the Constitution was 
formed. But this cannot be substantiated ; and probably 
Carpenters' Hall is not entitled to the honor claimed for it 
of having sheltered the Fathers of the Republic while they 
were engaged in forming the Constitution ; but notwith- 
standing this doubt it is an historically interesting edifice. 
In the hall itself are the desks and chairs used by the fifty- 
four Continental delegates, and they are in about the same 
position as they were one hundred years ago. It seats some 
four hundred persons, and, on the day of the celebration in 
1874, it was closely packed, while a patient crowd stood 
without during the speaking. A profusion of flags deco- 
rated the interior, and upon the walls hung the portraits of 
Peyton Randolph, President of the Congress, of the Rev. 
Jacob Duche, its chaplain, who offered the memorable 
prayer (how great the pity that he should have afterwards 
turned Tory !), and of Thomas ISIifflin, an early governor 
of Pennsylvania. On the platform, during the speaking, 
sat Vice-President Wilson, General Hawley, of Connecti- 
cut, members of Congress, and other dignitaries. John 
Welsh, Esq., of Philadelphia, presided, and made a short 
and forcible speech, which was folloM^ed by Mr. Brown's 
oration. This is printed among the addresses at the end of 
this volume. It is certainly not too much to say that in 



90 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

its matter and manner it was the most elegant speech de- 
livered in any part of the country during the Centennial 
period, and its immediate impression was truly extraordi- 
nary. The orator's portraitures of Revolutionary characters, 
especially of Patrick Henry and Washington, were so vivid, 
that whole ranks of persons in the audience rose and turned 
around to look in the direction where he pointed, as if ex- 
pecting to see those men of a hundred years ago sitting in 
their places. It was a triumph of the imagination seldom 
witnessed. It was, too, an earnest and soul-full address, 
fired by the noblest sentiments. It struck a deep chord. 
The New York Tribime spoke thus of the occasion : " The 
ceremonies at Carpenters' Hall in Philadel})hia stir the 
popular heart Avith a feeling of patriotism and pride of 
country Avhich in these days is not as common as it might 
be. The national holiday has degenerated into a noisy 
nuisance. The lives of the heroes of the Revolution have 
been turned into cheap jokes. It is well that at least once 
in a hundred years, if no oftener, we consent to reflect seri- 
ously for a few moments upon the early scenes of our his- 
tory, and compare the statesmen of the ancient time with 
our own. Philadelphia was fortunate on Saturday in the 
choice of an orator. If all the speeches inspired by the 
Centennial are to be even half as good as Mr. Brown's, we 
shall be unexpectedly blest." In a more elaborate notice 
the same paper added : " The oration delivered on Satur- 
day at the centennial anniversary at Carpenters' Hall of 
the first meeting of the Continental Congress, was a worthy 
tribute to the principles and the men that were represented 
on that ever-memorable occasion. Those who listened to 
the burning words of the young Philadelphian at Faneuil 
Hall on the hundredth anniversary of the Boston tea-party, 
will remember tlie affluence of historical knowledge as well 



THE "CARPENTERS' HALL" ADDRESS. 91 

as the broad and earnest patriotism with which liis views 
were enforced, and will be prepared for the exhibition of 
similar characteristics in his latest production." 

The Philadelphia Press said : "As the exercises con- 
tinued, and the oration of the day was being delivered, the 
whole aspect of the assembly changed. Those there seated 
were no longer men of business, but sons of liberty who had 
suddenly realized the grandeur of their birthright. The 
thrillino; oration fanned into a white heat the long-smothered 
embers of patriotism until the air seemed heavy with the 
magnetic influence of deep emotion and mental excitement. 
Time and again the speaker was enthusiastically applauded, 
and, when at last he bowed himself from the platform, the 
whole audience unconsciously arose, the better to express 
their admiration of and gratitude to the orator for once more 
rekindling the fires of early patriotism. The scene was one 
never to be forgotten. Old men whose years overlapped 
the nineties stood erect with a renewed youth and waved 
their hats in the air, and the young men, to Avhom the ^^•ord 
liberty had long been so familiar as to have become an 
empty sound, seemed suddenly to realize the "deep signifi- 
cance of the term, and to long for some way of proving 
their devotion to a government which had cost such precious 
blood to gain." 

The Philadelphia Evening Herald was very enthusiastic. 
We will quote a few of the more moderate sentences : 

" No description can reproduce the impression which the 
orator made upon his audience. He spoke upon a remark- 
able occasion to a remarkable assemblage, and his most inti- 
mate associates who knew the man and expected nothing 
little from him, heard him to the end with increasing sur- 
prise. They knew that what they had heard was not the 
fruit of protracted study under favorable auspices, but the 



92 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

labor of three brief weeks, wlierein research, composition, 
and elocutionary preparation were necessarily blended into 
one, and because of that knowledge the achievement was to 
them a still greater one than to the ordinary listener. 

" Of ]\Ir. Brown's method of delivery it is impossible to 
speak as its exceptional character warrants. Artistically it 
cannot be excelled. It is powerful without being crude; it 
is inspiring without being inflammatory, teaching the mind 
as well as the heart. It possesses all the variations of run- 
ning water, now musical as the brooklet, now sonorous as 
the cadence of the river. Nature gav^e him a voice, and art 
made him an orator. Herein lies the secret of his oratory, 
— a perfect mastery of himself. His fine voice is not more 
penetrative or powerful than that of many a speaker, but 
it is in wonderful subjection. It is absolutely free from 
monotone, which is the distressing feature hardest to shun 
in oratory, as it is the most difficult to unlearn. To sum 
it all up in a word, the charm of Mr. Brown's delivery 
consists in his absolute naturalness. 

'' The subject-matter of this oration deserves a more 
scholarly analysis than can be made in this review, inas- 
much as it will henceforth be a part of our history, and 
because while the few will always remember it as spoken, 
the many will only know it in its written form." 

It is not necessary to quote further from journalists all 
over the country, who vied in speaking well of it, to show 
the estimate at the time of this address. It must speak for 
itself. The first thought of it may be found in this ex- 
tract from a letter of Mr. Brown's, dated August 12, 1874 : 

" I have been puzzling myself this afternoon — after my custom — 
about an invitation I received to-day. September 5 is the centennial 
of the first meeting of the Continental Congress, which was held in 
Carpenters' Hall. One of the committee of the Carpenters' Com- 



THE ''CARPENTERS' HALL'' ADDRESS. 93 

pany called on me this moi-ninii; to ask me to deliver the oration on 
the occasion. I told him I would let him know to-morrow, — for the 
time is very short. — and meantime have been wondering what to do. 
The occasion is, perhaps, as good as any I have had, and the sulijeot 
worthy of effort. But I know just as well as you how much I shall 
have to pass through in these three weeks of hot weather in the 
agony of preparing such a speech as will reflect credit on myself and 
do the occasion justice, and I am almost inclined to let the chance 
go by. Perhaps, however, I may yield to the admonitions of the 
still, small but ambitious voice within me, which bids me accept 
this invitation." 

The address was certainly not a random effort shot at an 
occasion, although composed, as the above letter shows, in 
an incredibly short time ; but it had heart and toil in it ; 
it M'as a production thoroughly wrought as a work of art, 
with much careful research, exquisitely true to fact, cloth- 
ing past fact with new life and color, and flooding it with 
warm liglit like a great historical picture, despising the 
superficial, the vulgar, the smart, the boastful, and evincing 
a manly conception of classic oratory of an earnest aim, 
such as is now seldom heard. Its delivery (so it is said) 
was exceedingly powerful, and even entrancing. Perhaps 
it would not be too much to say with another (at a time 
when some critics were talking of the young-mannish rhet- 
oric of Greece and Rome, a suspicion of which appears in 
the oration), "He is a young man, it is true; but his 
address on Saturday night has made him famous."* 

* An interesting fact in regard to this address was communicated 
to the family by the mother of two young men living in New Eng- 
land. While members of a preparatory school they were desirous 
of procuring a scholarship in Harvard College, which they were 
about to enter. They translated the Carpenters' Hall oration into 
Latin, one of them taking the first half and the other the second, 
both of them, by this means, succeeding in their object. 



94 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

Before plunging again into the subject of ]x>litics, we 
subjoin an extract from a humorous letter sent to the writer 
about this time, on the occasion of the playful jiroposal to 
make the joint purchase of a " Castle on the Rhine," just 
advertised for sale in the New York Tribune: 

" Tlie ' castle' suits me perfectly. I can imagine the satisfaction 
I should find in sitting down to dinner ' with my helmet on' in that 
huge dining-room beneath that heavy-beamed ceiling. How solemn 
the feasts would be at the beginning ! until the flowing Rhenish (and 
other medigeval bowls) would wash away the bounds of etiquette, 
and the vassals would begin to be uproarious at the farther end of 
the table. With what satisfaction, too, would I go bare-headed to 
the gate to welcome you, llerr Professor, when you would arrive in 
pomp and circumstance! Think of the magnificent banquets we 
should serve up, with the stately dances afterwards, to the sound of 
harps, in the flaring torchlight, our 'mutual' and 'individual' serfs 
meanwhile careering around big bonfires in the coui't-yard ! I say 
the castle suits me perfectly. But the price, — there's the slight dif- 
ficulty. Twenty-seven thousand pounds may be a small sum for a 
prince, or a nobleman, or a ' gentleman of position' on the Khine, but 
here in Philadelphia it is large. At all events, I shall have to delib- 
erate before I agree to purchase. Perhaps we might buy a castle or 
two and set them up in Litchfield. You remember that we agreed 
that pleasant afternoon, when we walked up to Prospect Hill, that 
something of the kind was all that the scenery there needed to make 
it European." 

Politics had now a sudden revival, and another brief but 
sharp contest Avas waged, in which the party of Reform in 
Philadelphia gained a positive triumph. It was on the 
occasion of the election of district attorney, and, more par- 
ticularly, upon the question of the re-election of William 
B. ]\Iann, Esq., who, for twenty years, with but a short 
interval, had been in office. Mr. Mann was the Republican 
candidate, but had already been strongly opposed by the 
Union League and the party of Reform on grounds of public 



LECTURING TOURS. 95 

welfare. A great meeting was held in Horticultural Hall 
on the evening of October 30, 1874, at which many of the 
leaders of the Reform movement spoke, not only with 
freedom and force, but with considerable personal virulence. 
Mr. Brown was the fourth speaker. It was one of his 
most effective efforts, calm in tone, but incisive and un- 
sparing in its dealing with persons and facts. There is every 
evidence that the election was influenced, and, in foct, de- 
cided, by this s})irited meeting at Horticultural Hall. The 
Republican candidate for district attorney was badly de- 
feated, running behind his ticket, so that for a time the 
cause of municipal reform M'as in the ascendant. In an 
extract from a private letter written the next morning 
by a prominent Reform politician, this result is fore- 
shadowed : " I am told that our meeting has done its work, 
and that the feeling in the streets has undergone a decided 
change." 

About this time Mr. Brown delivered his lecture on 
" The Story of an Hundred Years" in Boston, as one of the 
Bay State course of lectures. He was introduced to the 
audience by his friend, James T. Fields, Esq., who asked 
for him " the warmest welcome." He gave this and other 
lectures at many places during this period. He related a 
funny mistake which happened to him, similar to the one 
that occurred to Mr. Froude in Boston. Mr. Brown and 
Edith O'Gorman, the escaped nun, lectured in a town the 
same night. The next day he was invited to dine out. 
The lady of the house, in arranging the table, happened to 
mention the name of Mr. Brown as one of the guests. 
"An' who is Mr. Brown ?" asked the waitress. " The gen- 
tleman who lectured last night." "An' is he the escaped 
nun ? Sure, I'll not work another lick in this house." 
With that exclamation she bounced out of the room, and it 



96 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

required quite an explanation to induce her to come back. 
On those lecturing tours his letters home were very amus- 
ing, and are good transcripts of the similar experiences of 
others. At one place he writes : 

" The hotel where I am staying is a two-storied shanty of unpre- 
tending exterior. My home has been the bar-room, a small apartment, 
twelve by fifteen, in the midst of Avhich around a stove have been 
sitting a gloomy company toasting their cowhide boots in melancholy 
stillness, and enlivening the occasion only by constant expectoration 
against the unoffending stove. No sound has broken the stillness 
since my last vain attempt to organize a diversion, save the sputter- 
ing remonstrance of the insulted stove, and I have been generally 
left to my thoughts. It will take a Large and enthusiastic audience 
and a handsome fee for the intellectual food 1 have prepared for 
them, to repay me for what I have thus far endured." 

In the following month of December he seems to have 
done some shooting down in North Carolina, since we find 
this minute (what the Germans would call Jagd Rapport) 
among his jxipers, showing good sport: 

Thursday, from 3.30 till sunset, 2 covies. H. A. B., 4; 
Friday, all day, 9 " 

Saturday, 7 " 

Monday, from 11 till sunset, 7 " 
Tuesday, all day, 8 " 



At the beginning of the year 1875, Mr. Brown was 
engaged in aiding in the formation of an International 
Collegiate Alumni Association, inspired by the Centennial 
Celebration, of which he was made one of the executive 
committee. We also find, in addition to his Penn Ilonthlii 
contributions, an article from him in a Philadelphia paper 
upon the qualifications of civil magistrates. Its stress is a 
plea for the adoption of the clause in the conference bill of 



4; 


B.W 


.R. 


,2 =6 


22; 


' 




7 =29 


30; 


' 




15 =45 


17; 


' 




7&1 snipe = 24 


22 &1 snip 


b; ' 




12 =34 



QUALIFICATIONS OF CIVIL MAGISTRATES. > 97 

the plirase " leanictl in the law." The line of argument 
may be gathered from this extract : 

" But it is said that young lawyers, or such members of the bar 
as will seek to take these places, would spend their time in search- 
ing for legal points, in settling the law and not the case. This 
seems to us an unfair assumption, and no sound argument against 
the lawyer's eligibility. These courts are created for the people's 
convenience. The more speedy the trial, the more exact the admin- 
istration of justice, the better for all parties, — save the criminal. 
Now, the law has certain rules by which its business can best be 
managed and justice done. There are rules of practice and rules 
of evidence. They have been suggested by wisdom and tried by 
experience. And the lawyer only is familiar with them and can 
apply them safely. Then, too, a certain amount of education is 
required at the bar. The lawyer can always do more than read 
and write. He must pass more than one examination before he 
can enter his profession, and the restriction of which we speak will 
secure for us, as magistrates, men of at least ordinary education. 
Then, too, we have a control over him which we have not over the 
layman. A lawyer is amenable to the censors of the bar. He is a 
sworn officer of the courts. The one may present him for misde- 
meanor ; the other may throw him over the bar. If, then, we were 
to provide that our new magistrates should be learned in the law, 
we would be sure, at least, of men of some education, of ordinary 
intelligence (which ought not to be too much to ask), learned 
enough — not to embarrass a questi(m, perhaps, but to decide a claim 
with promptness and according to law, and sufficiently familiar with 
the rules of evidence and procedure to expedite the business of their 
offices and secure justice, — over whom we would have a control 
such as we possess over no other member of the community. And 
then, besides all this, by restricting these offices to the comparatively 
few men in this city whose l)usiness in life it is to understand and 
study their powers and duties, we would elevate it in the popular 
eye and give the magistrate himself a higher dignity. Restrict the 
choice to members of the bar, and you will stimulate among lawyers 
ii new and honorable ambition. Undoubtedly there are many ex- 
cellent men of that profession to-day who would willingly take an 
office, which thus might be made a professional one and full of use- 



98 MEMOIR OF HENRV ARMITT BROWN. 

fulness and honor, who would not consent to <ro into the scrainlile 
with the multitude for a share of powers, scattered among incom- 
petent and unworthy hands." 

Mr. Brown interested himself in tlie ory-anization of a 
" Social Art Club" in Philadelphia, and also a " Penn 
Monthly Association," to include men of literary, scientific, 
and artistic taste in the city. We must be allowed to say 
that Philadelphia has a marvellous facility for organizing 
social and literary clubs, and perhaps that accounts for the 
exceptionally genial culture among its professional men. 
She fences herself in with her own institutions, draws from 
her own life, honors and loves her leading men with en- 
thusiastic affection, is beholden to no otiier city for her 
intellectual life. Philadelphia swarms with these good 
things, and in some points puts other cities to the blush in 
the fidelity with which she cherishes home talent. Before 
the " Penn Monthly Association" Carl Schurz was invited 
to lecture upon " Education Problems." He was intro- 
duced by Mr. Brown in these off-hand words, " That in 
performing this act he was introducing to them one who 
would have been foremost in any Senate of the United 
States in any period of American history, but one who, in 
the past ten years, had shone with especial brilliancy in 
those things which used to be in the past, ought to be in 
the present, and he trusted would be in the future, tiie only 
titles to political distinction, — great learning, great ability, 
unsullied character." Tiie friendship with Mr. Schurz, 
which had been already begun before this time, w\as one 
of those influences imperceptibly drawing Mr. Brown into 
a broader field of political life. Their correspondence 
shows the reliance Mr. Schurz had upon his friend's judg- 
ment, courage, and capacity. Shortly after this, Mr. Brown 
joined with others in giving a complimentary dinner in 



SPEECH AT BELMONT MANSION. 99 

Xew York (April 27, 1875) to Mr. Schurz, at which time 
he made a speech. He was also an invited guest and 
speaker at the celebration of the battle of Lexington in 
the same month, and shared the toils of the journey 
between Lexington and Boston on that highly interesting 
but somewhat confused occasion. 

In the month of May the merchants of Philadelphia 
gave a dinner to the merchants of New York at Belmont 
Mansion, in Fairmount Park, on the occasion of their visit 
of inspection of the preparations for the Centennial Ex- 
hibition, the Hon. Morton McMichael being in the chair. 
John AVelsh, Esq., introduced as the '' father of the Ex- 
hibition," spoke, as did also Messrs. McMichael, "William 
E. Dodge, S. B. Chittenden, Henry A. Brown, and Erastus 
Brooks. The playful opening of Mr. Brown's speech put 
the assembly in excellent good humor : 

'•Mr. Chairman, — If anything could increase the natural embar- 
rassment Avhich I feel on being thus called out it would 2)erhnps be 
the reflection that my friend, Mr. McMichael, has introduced me in 
terms which I cannot hope to justify. And more than that, he has 
assigned no good reason for having called upon me. I find myself 
on this, as I have been on other occasions, somewhat in doubt about 
my identity. I do not think, frankl}^ that that is altogether due to 
the fact that the name which I have inherited from my fathers is far 
less of a designation than most other names. I do not know exactly 
to-day whom or what I represent. I had the honor once on a very 
solemn occasion to appear to some of my audience in the character 
of the lion. Morton McMichael, many times mayor of Philadelphia. 
And every now and then I have the privilege of addressing in the 
country audiences of my felloAV-citizens, who cling persistently to 
the belief that I am the late eminent David Paul Brown. Under 
these circumstances, sir, do you wonder that I am in doubt about 
myself? Is it surprising that I remind myself of the story of the 
Dutchman who went down to the hospital after Gettysburg to find 
his son ? ' Dere vas many tents,' he said, ' mit voundets, und I feels 



100 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

very bad. I say " Vare is mine sohn?"' und dey say " In de bed at 
de ent of dc tent." I goes to de ent of de tent und der vas voundets 
all around ; und some he got no legs und some he got no arms und 
some he got no heads, — dere vas all kinds of voundets. I go to de 
bed und I say "John," und he say *' Vas." Und I say " Stood up," 
und he say "I can't stood up because mine legs is shoot avay !" 
Und I say "Come home! come home!" und he say "I can't come 
home because mine legs is shoot avay !" Den I sit on de l)ed, und 
I say " Sit up !" und he sit up, und I put my arms around his neck 
und he put his arms around my neck, und I begin to cry und he 
begin to cry, und I looked into his face, — und it vasn't him !' Gen- 
tlemen, if you hope for one-half of the things INIr. McMichael's in- 
troduction may have led you to expect put your arms around my 
neck and look me in the face: I tell you I am not the man." 

We cannot now realize the enormous labor and anxiety, 
the uncertainties, hopes and fears, which accompanied the 
organization and the carrying out to a successful termination 
of the whole gigantic Centennial enterprise. Some few did 
the work, and some few inspired the enthusiasm to do it. 
Mr. Brown did both, and his hand, his purse, his voice, 
were never lacking. He had the pride of a Philadelphian 
in it, and, as his speeches always show, he had the principle 
of love of country, seeing in this peculiar time as hardly 
no other man seemed to see it, the golden oj)portunity to 
renew patriotic ideals, to lead back the people to original 
sources of national life and honor. 

These were troublous times in the Union League. This 
noble association, which did such admirable service during 
the period of the civil Avar, was suffering from an inter- 
necine war. Its " committee of sixty-two," as it was called, 
which had in April, 1874, been appointed and endowed 
with plenary powers, had by its action awakened the sus- 
picion of some of its Republican members upon the ground 
of party measures. Acting under the authority of resolu- 



ON THE NOMINATION OF GOV. N ARTE AN FT. IQl 

tions passed by tlie Union League itself, and especially 
under the direction, "TJiat the influence and support of the 
Union League and its members should and will be given 
only to candidates of unexceptionable character," on grounds 
of public welfare and pure Republican principles, the com- 
mittee had lent their influence to the Reform party in the 
election of city magistrates and other measures of the Muni- 
cipal Reform Association, for which action they were called 
to task in a special meeting held October 14, 1875. This 
was a most acrimonious and violent meeting, very nearly 
breaking up in a disorderly scene, in which confusion, how- 
ever, Mr. Brown made his voice heard in firm opposition to 
the preceding motion that dodged the question, holding the 
convention to a decision upon the action of the committee 
of sixty-two. 

Soon after this a large Republican mass-meeting took 
place (October 29) in Horticultural Hall, for the purpose 
of conferring upon political questions of the hour, and es- 
pecially the nomination of General Hartranft for governor 
of Pennsylvania. The two speakers were ex-Governor 
Edward F. Noyes and INIr. Brown. The remarks of the 
last-named orator, who came out squarely upon the Repub- 
lican platform, were commented upon by one of the leading 
papers of Philadelphia in these terms : 

" The speech of Henry Armitt Brown on Friday even- 
ing, advocating the election of Governor Hartranft as the 
representative of hard money principles, was the finest po- 
litical argument of the camj^aign, and it is likely will have 
a large influence with those who, while they deplore the 
follies of the recent Republican administrations, fear to 
trust their future to a party which, at the same time that it 
clamors for honest government, incorporates dishonest prin- 
ciples in its platform. Mr. Brown has been the ablest as 



102 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

well as the most conscientious of our reformers, and his 
action has, therefore, a special*significance." 

A touch of character must not be lost, for it is refreshing 
in these jnishing times to find a modest man. The modern 
Diogenes ought to have another pane to his lantern. A 
letter had been addressed to Mr. Brown urgently request- 
ing him to add his picture to the portraits of " a hundred 
representative men of Philadelphia" in the way of a memo- 
rial. This reply was among his papers : 

" November 9, 1875. 
" Gentlemen, — I have received your kind communication informing 
me of your purpose to prepare for exhibition next year a collection 
of portraits to be entitled 'One hundred representative men of 
Philadelphia,' and asking me to sit for mine. I appreciate the honor, 
but cannot believe that I have been able to do anything which en- 
titles me to a place in such distinguished company, and, as your 
number of subjects is necessarily limited, I ought to make way for 
some Avorthier person. 

" You have already honored me beyond my deserts by including 
my name among those from which your list was drawn. 

"I am, gentlemen, very truly j-ours, 

" II. A. Brown." 

The record of the years 1874 and 1875 would not be 
complete without copious extracts from a "journal" or 
"note-book" of Mr. Brown's, which seems to have been 
kept during these years only, and which, it is to be re- 
gretted, was not longer continued. Sketches of interviews 
with the great lawyer, the venerable Horace Binney, form 
the main subject. 

'■'• December 2)0.1 1874. — Met Mr. Carey by appointment and went 
with him to see Mr. Binney. Instead of going to the front door and 
ringing the bell, as I expected, Mr. Carey entered the little entrance, 
and, reaching the inner door, knocked sharply twice. A slight 



EXTRACTS FROM NOTE-BOOK. 103 

noise, succeeded by unboltiTig' and unbarring, followed, and the door 
was opened. Mr. Binney hi in self, stood before us. He seemed about 
the middle height. On his head he wore a black skull-cap, as if to 
conceal his baldness. A large folio lay open on the table, and his 
spectacles lying beside it showed what he had been doing. Greeting 
Mr. Carey pleasantly, and shaking me by the hand when introduced, 
he asked me to sit down, and, having taken up the big folio, walked 
over to the end of the room and placed it carefully on the lower 
shelf, — then, returning, took a chair fiicing and between us. After a 
few general words, Mr. Carey spoke of the near approach of his ninety- 
fifth birthday. ' Yes,' said the old man, ' I shall be ninety-five in a 
few days. I don't know how it is that I have lived so long. It has 
stolen on me unawares. Up at Cambridge they want to make a 
great deal of it, but I tell them they shan't. I tell them they shan't 
(repeating it). Survivorship is tiie meanest thing in the world. 
When I Avas at the bar I never could make anything out of a case 
that had nothing but that to recommend it. In my case, the fact is, 
— as I tell them at Harvard, — I have happened to outlive — not every- 
body, thank God ! — but a great many dead people.' Mr. Carey pres- 
ently began on the Reciprocity treaty. Mr. Binney heard him for 
only a moment. 'Come,' he said, 'now I want to talk to Mr. 
Brown ; ' and, moving his chair near me, he asked something about 
my living in England. I told him that I was a Philadelphian. 
Another question followed, which led me to say that I was a mem- 
ber of the bar. Suddenly his face lighted up. ' Oh, now I know 
you,' he said. '1 thought Mr. Carey said something about your 
being a stranger. I have read some speeches of yours. I knew 
your father well,' — and so on for some minutes. When we had 
been seated about a quarter of an hour, there was a pause, when he 
drew out his watch, and, in a very courtly tone, said, ' You must 
excuse me to-day; I have an engagement to drive with a lady. 
The next time come earlier ;' and, turning to me, ' I shall be glad to 
see you soon again. I will let you into the secret way of getting 
in. Did you notice the way in which Mr. Carey knocked? (knock- 
ing with his knuckles, as he spoke, on the table). Well, come to 
the side door and give that knock, and if I'm hei-e I'll let you in. 
That was the old Phi Beta Kappa knock we used to have in Cam- 
bridge in "93. Come al)out ten o'clock in the morning,' Witli a few 
words like these he ushered us out in the most lordly manner. I 



104 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

have never seen an old man who seemed so much the master of his 
faculties. I had imagined him much feebler and more broken. In 
repose his face looks old, but when animated, in conversation, not 
remarkably so. His teeth, however, are gone. I shall call soon 
again. 

" February 10, 1875. — Peyton told me in the cars this morning 
several interesting anecdotes of Mr. Clay. Manner, he said, was 
everything with him. lie related an incident of his power which, 
he said, he himself witnessed. Some unfortunate gentleman, while 
sitting at table in a hotel in Kentucky, happened to look around 
sharply at a drunken scion of the first fomilies who came staggering 
into the dining-room. The latter at once shot him dead. Clay de- 
fended the murderer, and, in the course of his speech, declared that 
the insults which could be conveyed by a look were sometimes more 
terrible than either words or a blow, accompanying this with an 
expression of face so insulting that the jury winced at it and soon 
afterwards acquitted his client, Peyton believes, simply on account 
of the impression this conveyed. 

" On my arrival at the office I took advantage of the hour, and 
the fact that nothing pressed, to call again on Mr. Binney. On 
knocking with two raps at his office-door it Avas opened, and, to my 
surprise, he recognized me at once. lie wore as usual his velvet 
cap, which hides the top of his forehead. lie drew a chair before 
the fire and bade me do the same. A glance at the table showed 
me that he had been reading John Quincy Adams's Memoirs. I 
began to speak of them, when he started off at once. 'Adams,' he 
said, ' was in Congress with him in "33 and '35, — an admiraljlc man, 
— I confess I have never quite made up my mind on the question of 
the bargain charged as made between him and Mr. Clay, though I 
think the friends of both parties must have had an understanding.' 
He contrasted — with some degree of earnestness — Adams's refusal to 
appoint a relative to office, even at the request of the President, with 
the practice of great men of to-day. He spoke of the change for the 
worse in public men, — mentally and morally. 'When I was in Con- 
gress there were many men of ability and honor in public life, but 
the bad ones were getting the ascendency very rapidly, and it has 
been growing worse ever since.' I said I thought that General 
Jackson had done much to debase politics. 'Yes,' he replied, ' un- 
doubtedly.' To my question whether he knew the general (which 



EXTRACTS FROM NOTE-BOOK. 105 

was a very foolish one to make) he answered, 'Oh, yes; did you 
ever see him?' I replied, quickly, ' Oh, no, sir, he died before I was 
born ;' and was sorry I had made the remark, for a shadow passed 
over the old man's f\ice as he seemed to be i-eminded of the difference 
of sixty years l)etween us, and said, half to himself, ' Very likely, 
very likely.' He then went on to tell me with much animation that 
the day after he closed a two or three days' speech against the re- 
moval of the deposits, he received an invitation to dine at the Presi- 
dent's. ' Of course I went. lie put me on his right hand at the 
table, and kept me by him all the evening ; he told me much about 
his personal history. His early education had been very defective, — 
he had to ride a long way to school and take his dinner with him, — 
and the teaching was of the rudest kind. I was curious to know 
Avhy he paid me these especial attentions. I learned that he had 
sent his nephew, Donelson, down to the House to hear my speech, 
and report to him. When he went back the general said, " Well, 
what does he say?" "He is pretty hard on you," said Donelson, 
" and pitches into you severely ; but it's the speech of a gentleman ; 
he treats you like a gentleman." And so the old man at once invited 
me to dinner.' Mr. Binney told the story with evident pleasure. 
' Clay,' he said, ' was a delightful man to talk with and hear speak. 
He had a fine voice and manner, but his speeches did not read well. 
Webster, on the other hand, sounded sometimes dull, but the next 
day what he had said seemed excellent in print. He had extraordi- 
nary power. I have heard him sometimes when he seemed to lift 
me up to my tiptoes. He was not a great lawyer. He had not 
thorough training or deep learning, but in the argument of consti- 
tutional questions he had no superior.' I spoke of the Girard will 
case as one in which he had not sustained his reputation. ' He had 
the law against him,' was the reply ; ' and, besides that, he didn't 
understand the law in that case. Had he done so he would have 
been in a far worse position than he was.' But in the Dartmouth 
College case, — 'Ah, there he had the law with him.' I spoke of 
Webster as being the best model among American authors, though 
not to be mentioned with Burke. The latter's range Avas so much 
greater, etc. We talked of this a little and then of Webster's char- 
acter, but he came back to him as a lawyer. ' In constitutional 
questions,' he repeated, ' he was unequalled. I have always said 
that he was superior even to C. J. Marshall, and you know I heard 



106 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

his speech in the Jonathan Robbins case when I was a law 
student.' Indeed, I said, at Sixth and Chestnut, in March, 1800! 
' Marshall and Webster,' he went on, ' were, of course, very different. 
The former seemed to make link after link, until he had joined two 
points with a perfect chain. His logic was wonderful. But Web- 
ster seemed to strike a successioa of ponderous blows. He bore 
down everythino; before him by his weight.' I spoke of Everett. 'A 
very remarkable man,' Mr. Binney said. ' Ilis industry was ex- 
traordinary. He sat next me in Congress. One day he called at 
my lodgings and asked me if he might read to me a report which 
he had prepared on a question which was purely legal. I have for- 
gotten the subject, but I remember that it involved several difficult 
points of law. It took him three-quarters of an hour to read, and 
when he had done I told him that I had no comment to make ; that 
he had correctly stated the law and quoted the authorities, and that 
I had no comment to make upon his labors. And yet he was a man 
who had never studied law.' In illustration of a remark called 
forth by something I said about party discipline and the narrowness 
of party spirit, the old man then told me, as he said, 'a remarkable 
circumstance.' ' When Tom Benton brought in his bill to debase 
the gold coin to keep it from flowing to Europe, and supported an 
elaborate scheme based upon that idea, I examined the matter with 
some care, and was clear that it violated some truths of history and 
finance, but I hardly expected to speak, until J. Q. Adams came to 
my seat one day and said, '' Mr. Binney, are you not going to speak 
on this subject?" I replied that I thought speaking would do no 
good, but the next day, I think it was, I took the floor. The House 
was not more than a third full at the time, but they listened to 
me with great attention in a speech of perhaps an hour and a half. 
AVhen I had done a gentleman took the floor to speak on the same 
side. The House suddenly filled as if by magic. Every member 
was soon in his seat, when they commenced such coughing and 
scraping of feet that the nienil)er could not go on. Then they called 
for a vote, and passed the measure without a pause. Here was an 
organic conspiracy to carry through this party measure without 
reference to argument or the honor of the country. It made an im- 
pression on me at the time, and showed how thorough party train- 
ing had even then become.' Further talk about Mr. Webster led 
Mr. Binney to speak of Jeremiah Mason, 'one of the greatest law- 



EXTRACTS FROM NOTE- BOOK. 107 

yei's and greatest men this country has produced.' ' He was a giant 
in size, and, by the way, the chief justice of Massachusetts was here 
to see me the other day, — an enormous man, too ; nearly as tall as 
Mr. Mason, — Mr. Gray.' He asked me if I had read his (Mason's) 
Memoir and Correspondence, prepared by Mr. Hillard, of Boston. I 
had not. With that the old gentlenmn rose and searched for a 
moment in one of his bookcases, but could not find the volume, 
giving it up at length with the remark that his daughter arranged 
his books when they got in disorder, and that he would send it to 
me. lie asked me if I had received an invitation to go to the cele- 
bration which they are to have at Lexington on the one hundredth 
anniversary of the fight. I answered that I had, and hoped to go. 
' I am too old for such journeys now,' he said. 'At ninety-five and 
over I cannot go so far from home. I don't know how it is that I 
have lived so long. It has stolen upon me unawares.' lie then 
told me of his passing a year — from 1792 to 1793 — at a place now 
called West Cambridge, waiting to grow old enough to enter college. 
There was a pond there called Menotomy. Years afterwards he 
went with Mrs. Binney, who wanted to see the place, but couldn't 
find it. More than forty years after his residence there he tried 
again, and, driving out from Boston, found that he could direct the 
coachman how to go, and at last found 'Menotomy Pond.' But it 
was then called ' Spy Pond,' and he could find no man, woman, or 
child who had ever heard the old Indian name which he had spoken 
and heard a hundred thousand times.* ' Tell them this story, and 
say that they do wrong to change the names of their towns and 
villages. The Indian names are beautiful and ought to be pre- 
served.' I mentioned the wicked change in the Adirondack Moun- 
tains, of the tallest peak from ' Tahawus,' ' cloud-splitter,' to ' Mount 
Marcy.' The old man laughed and said, ' The Secretary was not 
much of a cloud-splitter.' After more than an hour's talk I took 
my leave. The interview was most interesting in every respect. 
There is nothing to indicate great age in Mr. Binney but the loss 
of teeth, which often makes his words a little indistinct. lie is 

® This is like the story which is told of another great lawyer, Alexander 
Wedderburn, who was Lord Chancellor of England in 1793. When an old 
man be went to Edinburgh for the purpose of visiting " Mint Close," where 
he used "to play at the bools" as a boy, and to see if it was still just as he 
left it sixty years before. 



108 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

neither blind nor deaf, and every faculty seems unimpaired. lie 
stoops considerably, but his eye — a deep blue — is still bright, and 
does not look like that of a man of sixty. In everything he says 
you notice the man of puvi^er. His language is always cori-ect and 
beautiful. 

'■'February 19, 1875. — I talked with Dr. Allibone at some length. 
He thinks very highly of Everett, and also of Webster, but denounces, 
with perhaps justifiable warmth, the attempts to compare the latter 
with Burke. Dr. Allibone said some very kind things of my speeches 
which were gratifying, but ought not to be written down, at least 
by me. I can hardly bring myself to believe them : I am certain it 
would not be honest to have them even set down. 

^' March (j, 1875. — At the 'Junior Legal Club' this evening. Judge 

and were talking of the timidity and nervousness which 

men feel in court. said, to the judge's evident surprise, that 

he had never quite recovered from the feeling. agreed with us 

that it was a matter of temperament. Another of the company quoted 
to me a remark which I made at the meeting at the Penn Monthly 
room on Thursday, in my first speech. I was speaking of the pro- 
posed club and of that scheme for a ' Century Club' which and 

Dr. had in charge. The danger, I said, is that they start 

at the wrong end. They have too elaborate ideas, and make the great 
mistake of trying to make the Century plant bloom at the begin- 
ning instead of at the end of a hundred years. As he recalled it I 
remember how much it seemed to strike the men as I let it fall, for 
that, after all, is the danger we generally encounter, and nearly always 
with fatal results, in the formation of tiiese clubs. Men are not con- 
tent to wait, while such things should always be in great measure a 
growth. I think that the * Penn Club' will succeed because it will 
start modestly, and money will be out of the question. I doubt the 
success of the ' Social Art,' as I did that of the now defunct ' iEsthe- 

tic' Some one recalled to my mind 's joke about the new House 

of Correction. He was passing in the cars the huge building, when 
a man near liim asked, ' Is that a distillery ?' ' Oh, no,' was the an- 
swer, ' It's a rectifying establishment.' 

^^ March 7, 1875. — Went to the Continental to-day at one o'clock, 
though it was snowing heavily, and passed an hour or more with 
. He talked very freely and as strongly as I have talked, hav- 
ing apparently come entirely around to my way of thinking. He 



EXTRACTS FROM NOTE-BOOK. 109 

said that the Repul^Iicans Avould undoubtedly renominate Ilartranft, 
perhaps unanimously. I said that his administration had, on the 
whole, been satisfactory. He didn't think that anythinfj could be 
done, and added that Ave must all sit down and wait. ' Your posi- 
tion,' he said, 'is perfectly understood, and couldn't be better. I 
shall make my independence known. I thought last winter, in the 
McClure fight, that you were wrong, but I think now you did just 
right. Your course has been consistent and bold ; all you have to 
do is to keep quiet. But I will take an opportunity to speak or write 
about these tests, that are not tests of Republicanism, that will leave 
no doubt about my views with regard to them.' I rememliered as 
he said this our former conversations, when he thought that I was 
all wrong and going astray, and the letter he wrote last winter to 

urging him to save me from perdition, — that perdition which he 

sees now is the way to security and a strong position. was 

the first to come over to me, now . Both of them two years 

and less ago the strongest administration men. As I said to , I 

feel and think as I did two years ago, and men like me are strength- 
ening in our independence every day, while men like you are weak- 
ening daily in your party loyalty. I think, perhaps, that he is right, 
and that nothing can be done this fall to better things, — because the 
men who could are timid, or half convinced, or doubtful of their 
strength. But the change will surely come. 

" March 15, 1875. — J. , of Kentucky, lectured at the 

Academy to-night. Pugh sent me a stage-ticket, and I found a seat 
between Richard Vaux and Samuel Dickson. The lecture was in 
many respects better than I had expected, being full of satirical points 
and many fine passages. has the common fault of the West- 
ern speaker, of dropping his voice at the close of a sentence. The 
majority of the best things were thus lost to the audience and fell 
flat. He said that men were holding high and responsible positions 
who were no better able to discharge their duties ' than a gorilla 
would be to vindicate his race from the Darwinian theory.' After 
the lecture we sat down, to the number of twenty-five or thirty, to 
supper at the Reform Club. is quiet, genial, and apprecia- 
tive. Story-telling and good things kept us all amused until twelve, 
or nearly that, when, to my disgust, speech-making was begun. We 
all had to speak in tui-n, and one or two did not see the necessity of 
doing their part conversationally. in particular was oratorical 



110 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

to a degree which, in a small company, is trying enough. was 

amusing and mimicked others, to 's evident delight. 

^^ March 16, 1875. — Dined with . We had much talk of a 

political turn. believes that Grant will secure the Republican 

nomination without a doubt. lie thinks that Kerr, of Indiana, 
would be the candidate for the Democrats. He told us many good 
stories, especially of the South-Western politicians, many of which, 

though rough, I enjoyed greatly. Walked home with him and . 

I like , who strikes me as a kindly-tempered man and one of 

culture. He told an amusing story of General , a local celebrity 

in his State. The general was running for office, and his opponents 

determined to beat him. Among others they engaged Mr. W , 

a lawyer and famous orator, to speak against him. W made a 

great speech before an immense audience, and when he sat down 
the general saw that unless something was done at once to counter- 
act its effects his fate was sealed. He rose slowly, and said, ' My 
friends, you know me well. You have known me long. I have 
lived here right among you ever since I was a boy. It may be I 
have many failings, and you know 'em all. Everything that this 
gentleman has said of me may be true, and if you choose to believe 
him you must think tolerable mean of me. But this, I say, my 
fellow-citizens, I never done, — I never embezzled my client's money ; 
I never forged a check for sixty-four dollars and seventy-two cents; 

I never ruined my friend's sister.' Up jumped W in a fury. 

* Sit down, sir!' said the general. 'I say again, my fellow-citizens, 
I never embezzled my client's money ; I never forged a check for 
sixty-four dollars and seventy-two cents ; I never ruined my friend's 
sister.' ' Do you mean to accuse me of these crimes ?' broke in 

W again, beside himself with rage. ' I say,' went on the old 

general, and he repeated the thi-ee offences with great deliberation, 
' that I never do7ie them things .'' The meeting broke up in the 

midst of great excitement. A challenge from W was at once 

accepted by the general ; but, of course, the duel could not take place 
till after the election. The general was triumphantly returned, and 

then sent a humble apology to W for his 'mistake,' and was 

never weary of protesting that if he could only lay his hands on the 
' feller' who told him ' them lies,' he would flay him alive. 

^'^ April 30, 1875. — Samuel HoUingswortli entertained the 'Junior 
Legal Club.' Had a very pleasant talk with Judge Mitchell and 



EXTRACTS FROM NOTE BOOK. HI 

David AV. Sellers. The latter told of his remembrances of J. R. 
Ingersoll and others of the old bar, of the courtesy, dignity, and 
attention to det.ails of the leaders. 

'■'June 7, 1875. — Called this morning on Mr. Binney. lie was in 
his back office, the window of the front one, and indeed of the 
whole house, being closed tightly, because, as he said, 'they w-ere 
putting in coal.' The back office is a large, pleasant room, with 
straw matting on the floor, and two large windows opening out 
upon a broad garden full of trees and flowers. Mr. Binney wore 
his little cap, as usual, and seemed to me at first rather feeble for 
him, or, to speak more correctly, less vigorous than usual. He had 
been reading the Sjiedator, and told me, with some animation, of 
the 'extraordinary spectacle,' mentioned in the last number, of the 
people crowding out to the Alexandra Palace during the Whitsun 
holidays in such numbers as to make it impossible to move the rail- 
way trains, and compelled more than twenty thousand to pass the 
night out-of-doors. I told hira of the experiences I had had at 
Lexington, where the crowd was so great, and of the strange scene 
at the depot. This led him to speak to me again of the year he spent 
in that neighborhood, at West Cambridge, or Menotomy. I turned 
the subject presently upon Mr. Adams's Memoirs, the sixth volume 
of which he had just commenced, and remarked that I thought it 
strange that so able and learned a man as Mr. Adams, living in the 
period in which he filled so large a place, had taken no part in the 
discussion of the great constitutional questions which arose. lie 
seemed to have contributed nothing to constitutional law. Mr. 
Binney replied that 'the reason was that Mr. Adams did not take 
naturally to legal questions, and was not a Avell-read lawyer. He 
practised a little in Boston, but not much, and he did not feel much 
interest in, or enthusiasm for, the law. But he had a natural gift 
for politics and government, and they had the wisdom in Massa- 
chusetts to perceive this political capacity very early, and to send 
him to the Senate. lie acquired in time a thorough knowledge of 
European and American aflfalrs, and in some things he was the 
fullest-minded man I ever knew. But he was no lawyer. When 
Mr. Cheves was president of the bank (of the United States), the 
question arose as to the duty of the bank to redeem the notes of 
various States in government notes at Philadelphia, and Mr. Ciieves, 
who was not much of a banker and stayed here but a short time, — 



112 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

but a very estimable gentleman, — came to me for an opinion. I 
gave him one, and said that the bank had to do it, and pointed out 
that the arrangement as made by General Hamilton was one mutu- 
ally advantageous for the bank and for the government. He was 
not satisfied, and Mr. Adams insisted that the opposite view must 
be correct. Together they got an opinion from Mr. Pinckney, in 
which he agreed with me. I think they got six opinions and all 
the same way. Even then Mr. Adams said he supposed it must be 
the law, as it was so stated by gentlemen, — about whom he made 
some complimentary remark, — but he couldn't be satisfied. I re- 
member, too, another instance of his stubbornness. Mr. , whom 

you don't remember, was a China merchant. He imported immense 
quantities of tea, and under the bonding law as then existing he 
had it placed in the storehouses, and whenever he pleased he could 
take out as much as was necessary and bond it. Well, he made an 
arrangement with the keeper of the storehouses, and took out great 
quantities without putting it in bond at all ; for then, too, as has 
been more frequently the case in later years, it was a question of 
"who should watch the keeper." Of course this was all discovei-ed. 
He had borrowed largely in New York, and given as security the 
bills of lading, etc., of cargoes that were coming to this port. Mr. 
Adams had the ships libelled at once on arrival here as property, 
and I was engaged ])y the insurance companies, the holders of the 
bills of lading. The law was clear, of course, but Mr. Adams in- 
sisted on his view, and sent Mr. Wirt up to fight me. I did not 
mind Mr. Wirt much, because I had the law with me; but he made 
a fine argument, and I won the case. So little did Mr. Adams know 
of commercial law that he insisted on taking the case up to the 
Supreme Court. I argued it there against Mr. Wirt again, and, 
nemini contradicienfe, the court held in my favor. So the govern- 
ment was put to all that expense by Mr. Adams's obstinacy and 
ignorance of the law.' Mr. Binney then told me of the suit which 

he conducted as the counsel of against for slander. 

had alleged that , as consul at St. Petersburg, had knowingly 

admitted English goods as American. Mr. Binney was opposed to 
J. R. Ingersoll. and John Quincy Adams was a witness. 'I sus- 
pected,' he said, ' that he had prepared himself the questions that 
were to be put to him, and I asked him this question directly on 
cross-examination, and he could not deny it.' 



EXTRACTS FROM NOTE-BOOK. US 

"lie then spoke of the Memoirs again, and said 'no one could 
read the opinion which Mr. Adams set down in his journal of Mr. 
Clay, and then notice the latter's appointment as Secretary of State 
and the silence about it, without the conviction that there had been 
a compromise, — not by Mr. Adams, but arranged and managed by 
his friends. Again,' said he, 'Adams was in some things a narrow 
man and an unforgiving. He was honest always, but full of preju- 
dices.' I asked Mr. Binney if he had known Mr. Pinckney. He 
answered, never ; he had never seen him. But he was a man of 
great power, undoubtedly. He then went on and told me of a case 
in which Mr. Pinckney had defended a ship that was brought in as 
a prize, — the first case of the kind, and the principles of maritime 
and prize law were new to us then and the questions that arose 
unsettled. I won the case here, and it went to Washington. I won 
it also, I remember, at the Circuit Court before Judge Bushrod 
Washington. For some reason I did not go to argue it in the 
Supreme Court; I don't remember why. Mr. Pinckney was en- 
gaged on the other side and made a great argument, and she was 
condemned. Judge Washington dissented, but gave no opinion; 
but he spoke to me afterwards of the matter, and said I ought to 
have gone down, that Mr. Pinckney's argument had carried the 
court.' He (Mr. Binney) alluded to the stories about Pinckney's 
affectations of dress and manner. ' I believe he was a good deal of 
a coxcomb.' We then talked of the old bar, and he spoke of Tilgh- 
man, Lewis, and the elder IngersoU. ' The first,' said he, ' was an 
accomplished, thorough lawyer, — a remarkable man. The second, 
Lewis, a great rough man, with a rough education, who became 
finally a thoroughly educated man by his own exertions. In the 
higher capital cases he was very powerful. Mr. IngersoU was in 
some things the most singular man I ever knew. When unexcited 
his mind was slow to work, and if left to himself he would work 
out his arguments very imperfectly, and often made mistakes, appa- 
rently showing much less knowledge of the law than he possessed ; 
but in the excitement of a trial or argument, when once aroused, 
his mind was keen and powerful, and his knowledge seemed to come 
out. His mind was like a sensitive paper written over with a 
chemical preparation that required to be heated before the char- 
acters would come out clearly.' The old gentleman continued to 
talk most delightfully of the leaders of the old bar. I spoke of Mr. 



114 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

Sergeant. 'Ah,' he said, 'he was a good fellow. The tronVile with 
him was that he wouldn't prepare himself properly. But he had 
great readiness, and while he spoke thought out his case. He 
would ravel out his adversary's case and knit up his own while he 
was speaking.' I spoke of the change in the bar and the want of 
ambition among its members to become accomplished lawyers in 
the highest sense. I said I knew of but few men of my time who 
seemed to me to have a very high ambition. Mr. Binney continued : 
' I am so much retired, and see so little of the world in my privacy 
here, that there are many things which I do not see in which I 
would take interest. Doubtless you are right, and the bar has 
degenerated. All that I have seen and heard confirms your opinion. 
But you must remember that the times have changed, for Phila- 
delphia, up to 1806 and even much later, Avas the commercial 
metropolis of the country. All the underwriting was done here ; 
the great cases arose here or came here for settlement. It is not so 
now. We have necessarily grown provincial ; and with the decline 
in the relative importance of the cases which it tries, the bar has 
fallen off. But,' he went on with much animation, ' remember that 
the more commonplace the bar, the better is the chance for a1)ility 
and industry ; for there is always work enough in Philadelphia, 
and important work too. If the general run of lawyers do not 
strive for the first places there must be all the more room in the 
front rank. Cherish an honorable ambition. Be strict in attending 
to your business. Prepare yourself with care. Be industrious and 
study hard, and resolve, no matter what the temptation may be, 
never to do an unworthy action or take a mean advantage, and by 
all means' — here he leaned forward and placed his hand upon my 
knee — ' cultivate your talent for public speaking ; then, take my 
word for it, the reward will come.' Continuing in this strain, he 
spoke next of the changes in the condition and prestige of the 
bench. ' To think that there should be chief justices of Pennsyl- 
vania by the score ! But we mustn't slander any one ; there are some 
excellent gentlemen among them.' I asked him 'if he did not 
attribute the decadence of the judiciary to the elective system?' He 
said, 'No; I don't think that to return to the appointive system 
would entirely cure the trouble. Governors are partisans and are 
apt to appoint partisans, and, on the whole, I think the people may 
be trusted to choose men as fit as those whom governors would 



EXTRACTS FROM NOTE-BOOK. 115 

select; but the office should be helel for life during good behavior, — - 
that would make the incuuil)ent independent of all political influence 
for a re-election. When tlie late convention met I urged these views 
upon several gentlemen without avail. But to make our judges 
dependent every few years on the favor or fancy of political con- 
ventions is all wrong. Too much cannot be said against it.' After 
a two hours' interview I rose to go. lie shook me very warmly by 
the hand and said I must come again soon. I said I might go to 
Europe, and in that case would call again before the end of June. 
With this I took my leave. The impressions made on me by pre- 
vious interviews were deepened by this. It seems quite impossible, 
as you hear Mr. Binney talk and watch the changing expression of 
his intellectual face, that he is within five years of being a hundred 
years old. His voice is not weak, and were it not for the loss of 
teeth would not sound like that of a very aged man. His eye is 
bright. When I came in and he saw me, it kindled with a pleasant 
light of recognition as many a much younger man's might not have 
done, no matter how friendly his feelings to me. He is not deaf. 
The instant I knocked at the door I heard his prompt 'come in.' 
He stoops very much, but it is rather the stoop of a scholarly habit 
than of age. The most remarkable thing about him is his conver- 
sational power, — if I pass by the extraordinary memory which shows 
itself in all he says, — for he remembers everything (even the name, 
to-day, of the vessel which he defended, — the first prize brought in 
in the war of 1812, and which I have forgotten already). In what 
I have written of his conversation I have tried to recall his words, 
but I have been able to do so very imperfectly. He reminded me 
all the time when he spoke of what Chesterfield says of Bolingbroke, 
that his eloquence was of so pure and fine a character that were his 
ordinary and familiar talk taken down as it fell from his lips it 
might have been printed without correction either as to method or 
style. It is without question the purest, smootliest, most dignified, 
and elegant conversation I have ever heard. May I hear more of it 
next fall and winter !" 



Mr. Brown's political opinions were not held, as has been 
hinted, witliout the sacrifice of other things. As an illus- 
tration of this remark, after conducting for three years an 



116 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

editorial department in the Penn llonthly Ilagazlne, he re- 
signed from political differences. So great, however, was 
the desire to retain him on the staif that several times his 
articles M^ere published through the other editors generously 
waiving their right of control, because, in the language of 
one of them to him, " You felt sure that you were right." 
It Avas finally on the Bristow question that the split was 
made. 

In the month of March, 1876, Mr. Brown sent to the 
Neiv York Tribune the following letter, which indicates his 
feelings in regard to public affairs at that time : 

" To THE Editor of The Tribune. 

" Sir, — The fall of Mr. Belknap has precipitated a crisis. Men 
knew before that public affairs were corrupt from low places up to 
high, but this event has convinced even those who hated to believe, 
and brought the thing in all its ghastliness before their eyes. It has 
stirred this country as nothing has done since the death of Lincoln". 
* We must be rid of politicians,' is the cry which goes up on all sides, 
as if we could dispense with politicians in a government like this. 
The fault lies, indeed, directly at the door of that class of men, but 
it is not wholly theirs. A large share of it belongs to those who are 
the first to impute it to the politician. Nothing can be more unjust 
than to brand Avith obloquy a class of men and set them apart for 
scorn because of the sins of a portion, however large that number. 
And nothing, surely, is more fatal under institutions like ours than 
this disposition, to-day, to stamp office-holders with distrust and 
frighten out of the public service all who are best fitted to discharge 
its duties. IIow can we improve the condition of our affiiirs if, be- 
cause many men in place are unworthy, we make the very act of 
holding office, in advance, dishonorable? The politicians, it is true, 
are in the main to blame for this unhealthy sentiment, but the people 
themselves have suffered to grow up the things from which it takes 
its rise. Nowhere in the world is politics so plain a duty as in the 
United States ; nowhere else can the neglect of it breed more fatal 
consequences. For one, I do not share the usual contempt of men 
for the much-abused title of politician. Office-seeking may be one 



LETTER TO THE ''NEW YORK TRIBUNE.' 117 

thing and politics another. There is no profession more honoi*- 
able, short of the ministry of Christ, than that of politician, in its 
truer, better sense. To devote great talents and lofty character to 
the common good, to consecrate great powers to the State, to stand 
up in her service unmoved alike by the fickle winds of favor or the 
storms of adversity, to act only for the common weal, — this is indeed 
to be a politician and a statesman ; and there can be little hope for 
the future of America when such a career shall have ceased to be 
possible, and such an ideal to stir the ambition of her youth. 

"One cause of our present evils is not far to seek. The American 
people are still vii'tuous and patriotic. They have shown their devo- 
tion to both honor and their country under the severest ordeals that 
ever tried a people. But, the war over and the Union saved, they 
turned to their private aflairs with an eagerness born partly of ne- 
cessity and partly of disgust Avith politics, which, in its false mean- 
ing, they had come to think the cause of all their troubles. A few 
wise counsellors warned them that to neglect politics utterly was 
dangerous. ' No,' they said among themselves, ' politics is not the 
art of governing, but of getting rich l)y plunder. We are tired of 
faction and worn out with party strife. AVe have done our duty to 
our country and want no personal reward. Let others take the offices 
if they wish. We have business to attend to. Let us alone.' They 
have now so long neglected their public affairs, or intrusted them so 
often to selfish and unworthy hands, that there has come to be a class, 
distinct from and even sometimes hostile to the people, with which 
subserviency to party is the single test of merit, which holds in its 
hands all the paths to power and commands every avenue to office, 
dictates its own terms, issues its own decrees, sets up candidates and 
knocks them down, with little sense either of responsibility or honor, 
giving to those who cast the votes and pay the taxes small share in 
shaping party or national policy, and so little voice in the selection of 
their rulers that, in most cases, there is nothing but a choice of evils. 
And what has been the logical result? Bad men creeping into high 
places ; party sjjirit preferred to patriotism ; public honors the spoil of 
faction ; political patronage the reward of dishonesty ; the glory of 
great deeds put to the basest use ; high powers prostituted for gain : 
great places bought and sold ; the gates of office shut to honest men ; 
the service of the State no longer an honorable career ; confidence 
shaken ; faith undermined ; trust betrayed ; the people plundered ; 



118 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

the State disgraced ; the nation dishonored ; old age disheartened ; 
youth made corrupt; manhood put to shame. There have been ex- 
ceptions, it is true, and they have shone all the brighter by the con- 
trast, but such things have Ave all seen as this first century of our 
national life draws to a close. Were they not dangerous to our- 
selves we cannot ignore the influence of such examples on those 
who are growing up among us. If we show them bad men in power 
and a people apathetic, can we doubt that our children will better 
such instruction? 

"And these evils, of which all patriotic men complain, are long 
past being corrected by party platforms, however adroit, or party 
promises, however eloquent. For yeai's we have been fed on such 
things, and we sufier still. No disease like ours was ever cured by 
aggravating and perpetuating its cause. We need a radical medi- 
cine. Nor can we hesitate to take it. When things that have long 
been dangerous become disgraceful, honest citizens have no longer 
any choice. Under our institutions duty goes hand in hand with 
privilege ; we cannot shirk the one and hope always to enjoy the 
other. The people of this country must shoulder their own burdens, 
choose once more their own rulers, take their affairs again into their 
own keeping, and teach the politicians that they propose to carry on 
this government by their aid, perhaps, if they can, without it if they 
must. They should use every honest means within their power — 
and who can limit the means and power of an ai'oused and deter- 
mined people? — to secure, this year at least, the purification of pub- 
lic affairs, the faithful discharge of public duties, character and 
brains in public place, prompt and impartial enfoi'cement of the 
laws, economy, honesty, and ability in every department of the 
government. To do this, or even vigorously attempt it, will indeed 
be worthily to celebrate the Centennial year. But they can do 
nothing without the election of a President of their own. Left to 
themselves, the managers of both parties will set up men for the 
people to vote for, whom the majority of neither party would select. 
For any new organization the time has both gone by and not yet 
come. The formation of one (formidable as it might be even at the 
outset) l)efore the Cincinnati Convention shall finally have refused 
to satisfy the longings of the people for better men and things, 
would throw the prize at once into the Democratic camp, and 
strengthen in advance the worst elements of that disti-usted party. 



LETTER TO THE ''NEW YORK TRIBUNE.'' HQ 

"What, then, can we hope for? Tlie Republicans will not nominate 
Mr. Adams. He repi-esents everything that is most desirable in 
a President, — character, capacity, training, experience, traditions. 
But men say he cannot be nominated at Cincinnati. Well, what 
then? 

"We have within the ranks a good Republican, who was faithful 
in the darkest days under circumstances which put his courage and 
conviction to the sharpest test. No Democrat turned Unionist, like 
Andrew Jolinson, only to change again, but a Republican from the 
beginning, bred from an old Whig stock. A soldier during the war, 
active and distinguished in the field ; a lawyer who has won reputa- 
tion and high position at the bar; a man of administrative ability 
as well as a sagacious counsellor, who has not only opinions, but is 
ready to enforce them, and who, while piutting his duty to his 
country first, has been all the truer to his party, because he has re- 
fused to let scoundrels, who have robbed the people, make use of its 
prestige or take refuge behind its glory ; a Southerner who was 
loyal, — a Kentuckian who fought in the Union army ; a Western 
man, right and outspoken on the currency ; a Repuljlican official 
Avho has been the foe of corruption and the punisher of thieves. 
Mr. Bristow is comparatively young in years, but not in the service 
of his country. He has been long enough in public life to show his 
ability, his patriotism, his courage, his sense of honor, his self-re- 
liance, his strength of will. A month ago the President feared and 
was hostile to him ; to-day he bears the whole Administration on his 
shoulders. When men heard that Belknap had fallen in dishonor, 
from Grant down they turned to Bristow as the only man to trust. 
He, at least, has had no connection with the things that have dis- 
graced us, nor shown sympathy with those who have. Here is in- 
deed a candidate fit for the place and time. Leaders have been 
raised up for us before, but rarely so evidently as this man to-day. 
But how can he be nominated? Only by that without which little 
that is valuable has ever been accomplished, — hard work. Mr. 
Bristow can be chosen by the organization of the sentiment in his 
favor, now so apparent, into a force so strong without the conven- 
tion as to cause alarm, so strong within as to command a hearing. 
His friends must work as those of other men are working. They 
must organize at once. They must use the party machinery to 
secure delegates wherever possible. They must get together in 



120 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

city, town, and village, form clubs, open correspondence, write to 
the newspapers, argue with the hostile, convince the doubting, teach 
the ignorant. They must use every hour they can comm.and until 
the 14th day of June, and then be represented well at Cincinnati, 
outside as well as inside the convention. The majority of the 
present leaders would prefer any man to Mr. Bristow. What ad- 
vantage to them would be the choice of such a man? Better for 
their purposes the election of a Democrat. They build, as usual, on 
prejudice, and count on the mistakes of their antagonists. They 
expect to win this time, as they have before, not because their can- 
didate is better, but because that of their adversaries is worse. 
Those who have so often profited by Republican partisanship and 
Democratic blunders see no necessity for the nomination of Mr. 
Bristow. But they will not control this next convention in the old- 
fashioned way. The majority of delegates will not, it is true, be 
Bristow men from choice, but they will desire victory ab(jve all 
things, hoping, with tlie election of any Republican, to keep their 
places undisturbed. The rumors of revolt will not have touched 
their ears in vain, nor will their eyes be blind to signs of indepen- 
dence. Such an organization as honest work will make all over this 
country, in the present temper of the people, — if it will but an- 
nounce beforehand, frankly, its determination to work for Bristow 
with all its might, but to support no candidate below the plane on 
which he stands, and even, if driven to the choice, to acquiesce in 
the election of an honest Democrat rather than help that of a doubt- 
ful Republican, — cannot fail to influence a convention composed of 
men who desire most of all success. That is the great step in this 
business. Convince the delegates that distrust of Democi'ats alone 
is no longer sufficient to elect Republicans, and the fight is won. 

"And what may not such a nomination do? It will bring back 
into the ranks the best of those who have gone out since '68. It 
will awaken enthusiasm that has not been felt since '64. It will 
place the party on the safe and honest ground of principle. It will 
be a guaranty for the future, and recall what is best and most hon- 
orable in the past. It will stop dissensions, close gaps, heal wounds 
that might be fatal. Liberals, Independents, Republicans of every 
grade and kind, save only those whose leadership is death, will work 
together with a will for such a candidate, and we shall at last have 
a President who can be relied upon to crush corruption and give us 



FIFTH AVENUE CONFERENCE. 121 

such an administration of the highest office as shall satisfy the as- 
pirations of a free, intelligent, and patriotic people. 

" Very truly yours, 

" Henry Armitt Brown. 
" PniLADELpniA, March 27, 1876." 

Tliis letter was the first gun of the Reform movement 
in relation to the Presidential election. Bayard Taylor, in 
an editorial notice of the same day, says of it : " It is a 
most encouraging sign when a young man of talent and in- 
creasing reputation, like Mr. Henry Armitt Brown, whose 
communication we publish to-day, shows himself clearly 
awake to the difficulties and duties of our present political 
situation. He describes them with an earnestness which 
does not obscure the impartiality of his vision, and which, 
we trust, may carry with it a potent infection for good. 
The sooner the young men of our country, recognizing the 
extent and verity of our disgrace, shall thus analyze its 
causes and find one of them in their own apathy, the more 
speedy and sure will be the needful political reaction," 

The famous Fifth Avenue conference of those who de- 
sired to bring about the reformation of our national affiiirs, 
which was called by William Cullen Bryant, Carl Schurz, 
Martin Brimmer, ex-Governor Bullock, Horace White, L. 
r. S. Foster, Parke Godwin, and J. W. Hoyt, and which 
was presided over by ex-President Woolsey, was held in 
New York, May 16, 1876. To this meeting Mr. Brown 
was appointed delegate, and took part in the speaking. 
Although nothing definite in the way of political nomina- 
tion was proposed, yet the principles set forth in speeches 
and resolutions were of a positive kind. They pointed to 
the speedy resumption of specie payment ; a thorough non- 
partisan civil service, where fidelity and capacity should 



122 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

constitute the only real claim to public employment; the 
supremacy of the civil over the military authority in every 
part of the land, and total non-interference on the part of 
the general government with the local aifairs of the States ; 
retrenchment and reduction of the public expenses ; the 
earnest effort to have a man chosen for the Presidency who 
was not a mere politician but an honest man, whose very 
name would be a sufficient guarantee of honest government 
and a rigid enforcement of the laws. The manifesto of this 
conference was a noble document. It ended with these 
words : " Our generation has to open the second century of 
our national life as the fathers opened the first. Theirs 
was the w^ork of independence ; ours is the work of refor- 
mation. The one is as vital now as it was then. Every 
true American must have the courage of his duty." In a 
narrow sense, it may be said that this movement was a 
failure ; but who can tell the influence that a bold effort 
like this — a thunder-storm in the political firmament — had 
upon the political condition of the country ? Huss and 
Latimer were burned at the stake, but the words they spoke 
have purified, for centuries, the religious life of Protestant 
and Catholic alike. The words of an earnest young man 
like Henry Armitt Brown, spoken fearlessly at the time 
of his opportunity, are not lost ; they are felt now, and will 
always be felt. 

The singular prominence (for a young man) that he had 
at this time, the fact that his native city and State put him 
forward on every public occasion, the frequency with which 
his name came before the people, the many speeches he made 
here and there, before all kinds of societies, — jjolitical, phi- 
losophical, social, and literary, — have led some to say that 
he was ambitious of distinction, — a frequent charge against 
young men who take a leading ^jart in affairs. He doubt- 



CHARGE OF BEING AMBITIOUS. 123 

less was ambitious; he did aim at a certain kind of power 
wliich is the fair object of political striving ; but ambition 
is to be viewed with intelligent discrimination. Ambition 
is a sentiment of tlie healthy mind just as is the law of 
happiness. If a man have power, he is forced to try it in 
competition with others. If a man have a gift like oratory, 
he has a lawful delight in its use, which is also a means of 
its development. The desire to unfold one's powers, like the 
wings of an eagle, is the spring of achievement. If it end 
merely in this self-development, it becomes ignoble. But 
a young man without ambition is like a tree without sap. 
He lacks the principle of natural growth. His restlessness 
may be the spirit of God stirring in him. 

" The noble hart that harbours vertuous thought, 
And is with childe of glorious great intent, 
Can never rest untill it forth hath brought 
The eternal broodc of glorie excellent."* 

But, if ambitious, Mr. Brown's well-regulated will and 
balanced nature kept these fires under control. He loved 
well-earned praise as noble men always do, but he never 
bought praise by the sacrifice of his principles, though 
ready to suffer for them. He declined offers of official 
position. He did not seek prominence in any way, as lie 
did not seek office. He might have been a mere social 
celebrity. He might have belonged to the jeunesse dore 
of a great city. But the only reward he asked for doing 
well was to have more work to do. He did delight in this 
taxing and filling up to the utmost of all his energies with 
public work put upon him, and he cheerfully spent " labo- 
rious days" without personal reward in this kind of service. 

* Edmund Spenser. 



124 MEMOIR OF HENRY A R MITT BROWN. 

He flung himself into the Presidential contest with the 
greatest ardor, and no one man toiled more incessantly, both 
in public and private, to bring about what he considered a 
higher political result than had yet been attained, at least 
in these last days. But, before speaking of this, let us go 
back to a characteristic of Mr. Brown's mind, which has 
already been alluded to, — his love of nature. He had the 
poetic sense, but his busy life did not permit him to indulge 
this taste, for politics and aesthetics do not inhabit the same 
house. But he lost no opportunity to catch a smile from 
nature's face. He wearied of the city ; he longed for the free, 
open "country. He delighted to pass the summer months 
in the picturesque hill region of Litchfield, Connecticut, 
where, with his dog and gun, he roamed the fields and 
M'oods about blue Bantam Lake, and filled his mind with 
fresh thoughts. He was keen in his notice of scenery, and 
his letters are full of expressions of pure joy at new scenes. 
He was observant of trees. He loved an oak as he did an 
oration of Demosthenes, or any other strong and beautiful 
product. 

In a letter, dated August 22, 1875, to his mother, Mdio 
was then in Europe, he describes the changes that had 
taken place at the family's " summer home" in Burlington, 
New Jersey, which had been unoccupied for many years, 
and especially in the transformation time had wrought on 
the trees there. Surely none but a lover of such things 
could have written the following : 

" In vain does one look for the smoke-stack of the steamboat from 
that porch, or from the chamber window out of which you used to 
watch the coming storms ; the big willow, and the linden, and the 
mass of trees that grow out of the ' forest,' effectually shut out the 
view. The majjle-tree in the kitchen-yard has thrown up such enor- 
mous roots as to raise the pavement several inches. The grapery is 



LETTER FROM ''SUMMER HOME." 125 

in reasonable condition, — thanks to Woodie Hancock. The walks 
are neat and well trimmed. Some few of the trees ought to have 
been taken out years ago, but most of them are magnificent and 
have thriven wonderfully. The evergreens are superb. In the 
back lot several spi'uces are models of beauty. We walked about 
to-day and examined several which ought to be taken down, — the 
shapeless and scraggy ones which interfere with the growth of better 
trees. But it is so hard to raise and so easy to cut down that we 
shall be careful. The summer-house remains unchanged, and the 
pines about it are now big trees. The arbor-vitae hedge is still fine, 
but roughly so, — no longer trim and smooth. Not a bush, however, 
seems to have died or become sickly, and its height in some places 
will reach eight feet. Do you remember the row of pear-trees that 
never would bear much fruit, that stood near the hedge? There 
were some quinces that stood in front of them. They have now 
grown great, and seven of them are Seckels, and are hanging full of 
fruit. They are fifteen or eighteen feet high and very promising. 
The wistaria that you planted around the little arbor at the entrance 
of the vegetable garden has become of extraordinary size. It covers 
the side of the barn, — stretching across the roof, runs under it and 
appears on the other side of the stable-yard, and swings about the 
chestnut and maple trees in the most generous fashion. The dwarf 
pears in the little orchard have ceased to be, the stocks gradually 
dying from age. The little cherry and evergreen that were hardly 
noticeable there five years ago are tall and vigorous trees, and you 
cannot see the stable from the house. I am glad to find that the birds 
are very numerous, and still more so that the place has become the 
resort of many beautiful red squirrels, which apparently have their 
home in the big maple that took ten horses and eight men to move, 
for the base of that tree is heaped with gnawed walnut shells. While 
we were at dinner one of the little bright-eyed fellows came up to 
the piazza and gambolled about to the great delight of Nannie. The 
grass in many places is worn, and in many places it is a mass of 
soft green moss. So, too, are the banks on the side toward Aunt 
Mary's house. The big honeysuckle still blooms in fragrance at 
the corner of the veranda where you used to sit in hot mornings, 
and at the front steps is the other vine, in which I notice a bird's 
nest as of old. There are but few flowers about except the roses, 
which are blooming in great bushes here and there. I feel that you 



126 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

have been in communion with us this afternoon as we walked about 
and recognized the different trees, and talked of them and those they 
have sheltered once on a time. Here is the maple that was planted 
to replace the one snapped off in the great storm of '54; there is 
the locust, once but two or four inches thick, where we used to 
get the great thorns for antlers when we * played deer,' — now a tree 
eighteen inches in the butt ; another tree as thick as my body, which 
I planted as a seed picked up in the circle in front of the house on 
the little grave at the foot of it, still a mound a foot high, Avhere 
' Bluff' was buried ; and yonder is the giant chestnut in Aunt Mai-y's 
back orchard, now a cone of yellow blossoms ! The ancient crab- 
apple smiles a sickly smile, the ' Kentucky coffee-tree' has thrown 
his head skyward forty feet, and the twin chestnuts at the corner of 
the house are two feet thick at the stern. One of the larches has 
begun to die at the heart and shows now about six feet of dead top 
above the purple magnolia, but the other, its mate on the other side 
of the ' arch,' is tall and sturdy. The copper beeches stand as of 
old. The pair of yews, spreading over a diameter of twelve or 
thirteen feet, still guard the front walk; the smoke-trees .are feath- 
ered Avith pink cloud from top to toe as they Avere wont to be, and 
the constant chattering of robin, blackbird, thrush, and wren keep 
up the concert all day long." 

In another letter, dated June 10, 1877, written from 
Lebanon Spring.s, New York, he gives utterance to a wish 
that his old friend, Horatius Flaccus, would certainly have 
joined him in, and they two would have tramped out with 
inniiense pleasure to survey the spot, to look up the capa- 
bilities of the place, and to discover the qualities of the 
trees, the soil, and the springs. No snow-powdered Soracte, 
it is true, was in sight, but the Catskills must do for the 
nonce. He says : 

" And yet I think if I were a millionnaire and could indulge a 
passing fancy, I would buy fifty or a hundred acres that I know of, 
two or two and a half miles from here, on the summit of a hill from 
which the views surpass anything I have seen except Rigi Culm. 
There is a natural terrace between two knobs of rock on which a 



SPEECH AT THE CINCINNATI CONVENTION. 127 

cottage could stand. Behind it is a large dense wood of chestnut, 
oak, and pine trees. From the front of a house built here you could 
take in three-fourths of the horizon. You look eastward into Berk- 
shire County and see half a dozen villages with their dividing ranges 
of hills, while to the southward beyond the valley of the Hudson the 
Catskill range stands up like a purple wall. The hill is not very 
high, but peculiarly placed, and I would buy some acres and build a 
cottage here had I the needful," 

ISIr. Brown went to Cincinnati in June of 1876 as a 
delegate of the "Bristow Club of Philadelphia" to the 
Republican convention, to use all honorable means to secure 
the nomination of their candidate. The history of that 
famous convention, of its w^irepullings, schemings, skirmish- 
ings, votings, changing phases like Naseby fight, and its (to 
the country at large) unexpected result, is well known and 
need not be repeated. He, who had been among the first 
in the field for his candidate, made a brave stand for him. 
He delivered a vigorous speech at Pike's Opera House, 
Cincinnati, Tuesday, June 13, Hon. Job E. Stevenson in 
the chair. From this speech we make but one extract : 

" What is it that the people of this country desire to do? What 
is it that they demand in a candidate? Character? Is that much? 
Capacity? Is that much in an intelligent people? Courage? Is 
that much in a people that has shown the bravery of the Ameri- 
can people? Character, capacity, courage : those things they ask. 
They ask fidelity to trust, fidelity to republican institutions. They 
ask an honest government, an honest and able administration of 
their public aiFairs. They want to see men in the highest as well as 
the lowest offices of this government, who are honest, fixithful, capa- 
ble, and who can be trusted. They ask this not as a favor, but as a 
right, and they are bound to have it. The politician of the hour, 
be he reinforced ten million times, cannot make the people of this 
country any longer vote against their will for dishonest men. [Ap- 
plause.] You may take the horse to water, but how many does it 
take to make him drink ? They may nominate, but it is the people 



128 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT. BROWN. 

Avho elect. They must give us a different kind of men from the sort 
that we have been threatened witli, to say the least. And, more 
than that, the people, I say, demand these things of a candidate. 
They demand, also, a man who has been tried ; who has shown his 
courage ; who talks not about reform, but does reform ; who prom- 
ises nothing, but who performs; — a man who has given pledges; a 
man who has proved his sincerity ; a man who has passed through 
the fire and has not proved himself a tallow candle. They want 
that kind of a man ; they want a man born with a backbone ; they 
want a man who has a backbone born in him and developed ; they 
•want a man who has a backbone that has been strengthened by the 
practice of standing up; they want a man who can resist tempta- 
tion. These are not great things to ask ; and the American people, 
as a patriotic, as an intelligent people, demand and will have these 
things. [Applause.] 

" Now, is it impossible for the Republican party to furnish this? 
Is there not, in that great party that went into the war and crushed 
rebellion, such a man as that? Is there not in the party that saved 
the Union and held up the hands of Abraham Lincoln such a man 
as that? There are many, but there is one to-day raised up for us 
as a leader by the hand of God himself. In crises, in dangerous 
times in our history, God has raised up leaders before this. When 
he raises up before us a leader to-day who stands pointing out the 
path, shall we be blind ? In all parts of this country to-night, in 
little hamlets by the sea-board, in huts in the mountains, in the me- 
chanic's shop, by the forge, by the furnace, wherever in this country 
the honest and patriotic American longs for honesty in power, and 
purity in national affairs, his eye turns, as if by instinct, to the 
south bank of the Ohio, and his voice utters the name of Bristow. 
[Prolonged applause.] 

" My friends, there is no doubt of this. Poll the American people 
to-day and they would say Bristow — eight out of ten of them. Poll 
the Republicans in all parts of this country, and Bristow is their 
choice to-day. [Cheers.] Even here in Cincinnati — I don't mean 
even here in Cincinnati, but I mean even here in Cincinnati among 
the politicians — go and ask them about the candidates, and one will 
say Mr. A., and some will say Mr. B., and a very few — chiefly from 
the State of New York — will say ]\Ir. C. [Laughter.] They de- 
clare for this and that one as their first choice, but they say, after 



SPEECH AT THE CINCINNATI CONVENTION. ]29 

all, that Bristow would carry the people. Even among the politi- 
cians who are the managers of the machine, while they prefer one 
man from this State, or another man from a different State, and so 
on, yet they all agree that the second man is Bristow." [Applause.] 

The speech was thus commented upon in the papers : 

" Another of the events of the night was a speech of the 
young Philadelphia orator, Henry Armitt Brown, before a 
Bristow meeting at Pike's Opera House. Mr. Brown re- 
view^ed the situation of the party in 1872, when it con- 
trolled so many States, with a man in the opposition whose 
candidacy was a comedy, until it passed over the narrow 
limit between the comic and the pathetic, and the farce 
ended in a tragedy. Then he described the present haz- 
ardous condition of the party in the country, and its de- 
pendence on the character of the candidate to be put for- 
ward by the convention. The qualities the people now 
demand, he said, are character, capacity, and courage ; and 
Mr. Bristow, he thought, filled the demands. Mr. Browu's 
speech was a really brilliant one, and was enthusiastically 
received by the friends of Mr. Bristow." 

" Mr. Brown's beautiful diction, close logic, and admira- 
ble bearing on the platform were brought into their best 
play in the presence of a large audience assembled. Job 
Stevenson presided. Dr. Bellows of New York, James 
Freeman Clarke of Boston, and others spoke. Mr. Brown, 
in concluding, said : ' In a time like this America wants 
not the representative of any particular section, nor the 
favorite son of any State. What she wants is a man. Six- 
teen years ago she found him in Illinois ; to-day she finds 
him in Kentucky.' " 

Mr. Brown's liking for Mr. Bristow was reciprocated by 
the latter gentleman. Neither sought the other's friend- 
ship, and it was only a strong similarity of political views 



130 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

that brought them together. They became confidential cor- 
respondents, and recognized in each other many of the same 
characteristics. Mr. Bristow has freely declared that Henry 
Armitt Brown was born to be a political leader, because he 
not only had political insight, but because he acted on his 
convictions ; and that he was sure, if he had lived, to take 
a high position in the nation. He was equal to any post 
in the gift of the people. 

The Cincinnati Convention over, the months of June 
and July, 1876, were taken up with that long looked for 
event, the national commemoration at Philadelphia, when, 
in presence of a mighty multitude from all parts of the 
land, the one hundredth anniversary of the Declaration of 
Independence was celebrated by song, speech, and the united 
and reverent acclaim of joyful hearts. In the Avording of 
Mr. Evarts's oration, " The event brought its own plau- 
dits. It did not hang on the voice of the speaker, nor de- 
pend upon the contacts and associations of the place. It 
was the serene commemoration ' of a new State, of a new 
species,' which showed the marvellous wisdom of our an- 
cestors ; which struck the line between too little and too 
much ; which walked by faith, indeed, for things invisible, 
but yet, by sight, for things visible ; which dared to appro- 
priate everything to the people which had belonged to Ctesar, 
but to assume for mortals nothing that belonged to God." 

We subjoin Mr. Brown's account of his personal adven- 
tures on that multitudinous occasion in a letter addressed to 
his mother. It is a pity he could not have finished the 
narrative. He writes : 

" The great event, however, was the scene on the 10th. Having 
received no invitation, I presumed I was to see the ceremonies with 
the democracy, and expected to go out towards noon and spend the 



CENTENNIAL CELEBRATION. 131 

day with my wife in the grounds, having no relish for the scrambling 
and pushing of such a vast swarm of people. 

" On Monday, the 8th, however, I received an invitation from 
General Hawley asking me to act as his aide-de-camp. At first I 
thought I would refuse. Tiicre had been trouble about invitations, 

and Philadelphians generally had felt slighted. D , C , and 

others had not been asked, and I felt disinclined to go except on my 
own merits. On second thoughts, however, I reflected that it was 
foolish to take that view, and agreed with me, strongly advis- 
ing me to accept. I did so, and on Friday went to report myself. I 
found that the staff was to consist of four army officers, four briga- 
diers of Pennsylvania militia, and four civilians. The preparations 
were being pushed with an energy that seemed like frenzy, and the 
rain fell in torrents from a leaden sky. At five in the morning of 
the 10th, I was awaked by the din. Whistles, cannon and bells, 
made such a racket that it was impossible to sleep. xVfter a peep at 
the weather, which was most unpromising, the rain continuing to 
fall, I breakfasted in haste, and dressed in my evening suit, with a 
ribbon across my manly bosom, sallied forth at seven, met William 
McMichael, and started for the grounds. We had to walk the entire 
distance. Wagons, carriages, cars, all were crowded even at that 
hour, and when we reached the gates they were already, an hour 
before the opening time, besieged by an impatient mob. Arriving 
at headquarters, we found that the four officers, two of the briga- 
diers, and McMichael and myself constituted the staff. About half- 
past eight, being told that we had three-quarters of an hour to spare, 
McM. and myself started off to get a cup of coffee. Hurrying back 
first, I found, to my dismay, that Ilawley and his staff were gone. 
Throwing my overcoat into a corner I followed, and after tw^enty 
minutes of vigoi'ous pushing got through the crowd that was rapidly 
forming below the circle of seats, and gained a place on the platform. 
You know how the seats were arranged. A huge amphitheatre facing 
the main building had been erected against Memorial Hall. A large 
gallery on the north side of the main building served for the choristers 
and orchestra, and beneath and between the two stood packed the 
people. It was now half-past nine o'clock. The sun, which had 
been struggling with the clouds, burst through and the morning 
became clear and beautiful. For nearly two hours the crowd kept 
streaming in unbroken. Judges, Governors, Senators, Congress- 



132 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

men, Diplomats in court costume, Foreign Commissioners in all 
sorts of dress, with a great multitude of women, poured through 
the alley, kept by ropes and soldiers from the main building to 
the stage, and mounting the steps took seats assigned them. By 
half-past ten o'clock there must have been a hundred thousand 
people grouped between the buildings. About that time the 
Emperor of Brazil arrived with the Empress, and a large number 
of ladies of the Cabinet and of the Senate, and took the principal 
seats. It must have been half-past ten when General Ilawley 
asked me to get McMichael and go witli him to the back door of 
Memorial Hall, and remaining there, to let him know when the 
President arrived. We hurried to our place. By chance I recog- 
nized Hudson Rich, of Burlington, as a captain of the Centennial 
Guard. 'Can you detail a man to me?' I asked. 'Yes,' Avas the 
reply, and presently I had a man posted at the back gate with orders 
to let me know the instant the President came. The scene from the 

back of Memorial Hall was beautiful Here unfortunately am 

interrupted. It occurs to me that a very interesting account of the 
opening might be taken down from my lips, but must close." 

Mr. Evarts was, on this occasion, the gnest of Mr. Brown, 
and it is an interesting though trivial circumstance tliat, at 
Mr. A. J. Drexel's reception on the evening of July 4, 
Mr. Brown introduced Mr. Hayes (then candidate for the 
Presidency) to ]Mr. Evarts, afterwards his Secretary of 
State. It is remarkable (for so young a man) what a 
number of friendships, unmixed with a shade of servility, 
but characterized, on the other hand, by a stiff independ- 
ence and self-assertion, Mr. Brown already sustained with 
leading men of the nation. He met them, though mod- 
estly, on equal terms, and in the most natural way. We 
find among his correspondence letters which bespeak much 
more than an incidental acquaintanceship, and some of 
which contain a free interchange of ideas and opinions 
with such men as President Hayes, Wm. M. Evarts, Carl 
Schurz, Charles Francis Adams, Wendell Phillips, Josiah 



ARTICLE ON HORACE BINNEY. I33 

Quincy, B. H. Bristow, E. R. Hoar, Chief-Justice Waite, 
Robert C. Winthrop, Benson J. Lossing, Parke Godwin, 
Longfellow, Whittier, James T. Fields, Bret Harte, Oliver 
Wendell Holmes, Wm. Walter Phelps, Eugene Schuyler, 
George Wm. Curtis; and, outside of the country, with 
Thomas Hughes, Lord Houghton, Sir Charles W. Dilke, 
and others prominent as writers and politicians in England 
and France. He seemed to have the faculty of attracting 
to him men of ideas and power, and he in turn was attracted 
by them. 

Among the Penn Monthly jottings of the year just ended 
are to be found discriminating sketches of Hans Christian 
Andersen, Andrew Johnson, Gerrit Smith, Horace Binney, 
a lawyer pur et simple, and Benjamin R. Curtis, with many 
other articles that show a more confident power in the discus- 
sion of national politics. His article upon Mr. Binney, which 
fitly closes what he has already written of him, ends thus : 

" The future critic of our institutions glancing through 
the list of obscure and sometimes ignoble names which 
Pennsylvania has sought to honor, will wonder why men 
like Sergeant, and Meredith, and Binney were never made 
governors, or chief justices, or secretaries of the United 
States, and will see in that fact, perhaps, one explanation 
of the smallness of her influence on the country, in com- 
parison with that of South Carolina, or Virginia, or New 
England. ' By their fruits ye shall know them ;' by the 
Avorth and character of their men cities and commonwealths 
are rightly to be judged. More than one Bostonian has 
become famous because of his surroundings. Horace Bin- 
ney was great in spite of his. But now that he is dead, 
Philadelphia, perhaps, will appreciate what manner of man 
he was, and realize, when too late, that she will probably 
never again possess or lose so great a citizen." 



134 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

This memorable Centennial year of 1876 was calculated 
to awake deep thoughts in many breasts. In a " leader" 
written for the New Year's number of the Pliiladclphia 
Times, which shows how he felt on the subject, Mr. Brown 

says: 

" But what has been our moral and political growth ? We are 
more intelligent generally than we were a hundred years ago. We 
are richer, more powerful, more skilful, more learned, more enlight- 
ened ; but are we a better people? Are our merchants more public- 
spirited, our lawyers more patriotic, our men of capital less selfish, 
our politicians purer and less partisan? Do we choose for rulers 
the best men in each community ? Is it still an honor to serve the 
people and the State? Does the office seek the man, and political 
power rest only in tried and trusted hands? Are our cities better 
governed than they were in earlier days? Does the public service 
draw out the best talent and character, and open, as it once did, 
careers of usefulness and honor to the worthiest citizens? Are 
public duties more faithfully discharged ? Are the liberties of the 
people guarded with more jealous eyes? Is the national honor 
dearer to us than it used to be? Or is it true that we have not 
striven to grow better ; that we have been content to praise the 
past with fulsome eulogy and then forget it; that we have turned 
from the examples of our fathers and devoted our energies to the 
service of ourselves ; that Ave have constantly sacrificed the common 
good to private gain ; that in our hunger for Avealth and petty power 
we have so systematically neglected the simplest public duties, that 
politics are at last synonymous with vice, and statesmanship with 
incapacity ; that office has become too often the avenue to dishonor, 
and political power the path to infamy?" 

These questions poured out with impetuousness show the 
thoughts that were boiling in his mind. He had outgrown 
the partisan, and had caught the spirit of the time and 
become national in his aims. For a time the law, that 
" most jealous mistress," lost its hold on him. Charles 
Sumner at about the same period of life wrote to one of 



A REPUBLICAN OF THE ANTIQUE TYPE. 135 

his friends: "For myself I become more wedded to the 
law as a profession every day that I study it. Politics I 
begin to loathe ; they are of a day, but the law is of all 
time." It was not so with Mr. Brown. He was more 
absolutely interested in politics than in law. He was irre- 
sistibly led to take up a political career because he had in 
him the root of larger things than of a mere professional 
life. He might be called, if such an expression were 
allowed, a classic Republican. He made (a better way 
still) a party to himself.* But he seemed to be born with 
principles of a hundred years ago. Considering his youth 
and social environment, he was singular in retaining amid 
modern culture some of the rugged sentiments of an older 
type of American republicanism. One of these was rev- 
erence. It is no exaggeration to say that he could have 
mingled, without one shadow of incongruity, in any con- 
gregation of serious-visaged New England pilgrims in 
their plain " meeting-house" on top of Plymouth hill, or 
have kept hushed silence in an assembly of old-fash- 
ioned Pennsylvania Quakers, waiting for the moving of 
the spirit, or have sat in the grave and courtly company of 
our early Constitution- makers in "Independence Hall." 
His Puritan blood would not yield to much of the so- 
called progress of the day which sneers at ancient customs. 
He was conservative in his principles though radical in 
his measures. He was too earnest to be greatly swayed 
by fashions. Though a product of the times he lived in, 
yet he " carried a measure in himself," independently of the 
opinions of others. There was not in his manners that 

* " Si ch' fia te a bello 
Averti fatta parte per te stesso." 
La Divina Commedia : Paradiso^ Canto xvii. t. 24. 



136 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

familiarity which breeds contempt. He knew the distinc- 
tion between things God had made honorable and those he 
had made base. He recognized law, or the principle of 
authority founded on right. He was sturdy in such primi- 
tive notions as honoring parents, showing deference to the 
aged, paying respect to office and to religion. This reverent 
spirit of which we speak was partly a matter of taste, but 
more of principle. Delightfully genial as he was in society, 
reminding one of Anthony Trollope's description of George 
Lewes as a companion, and leaving behind him no equal 
for an hour's chat, there was still something about him of 
the antique. He would go to a certain length only with 
the custom of the day, and he halted in firm but modest 
protest at whatever offended a manly sense of honor. 

Another of his old-time sentiments was patriotism. This 
was his passion. He fed this sentiment in his thoughts like 
a sacred flame. Literature, poetry, travel, did not satisfy 
him; he had the discontent of one seeking his work. There 
was a duty to his country that called him. His political 
life fell upon times of anxiety and dreariness, when the old 
spirit burned low on the altar. He had to be a reformer 
in order to be a patriot. The two streams of tendency had 
met in strife. Never was there a time when good political 
leaders were more in demand. A short time before, mili- 
tary chiefs were needed. Young Napoleon was the cry. 
Now, statesmen, or, if the word be too large, honest politi- 
cians, are the want. Our country, though young among 
nations, is passing through a time of development, which, if 
not betokening weakness in its constitutional principles, nor 
giving proof of inherent disease in the body-politic, is show- 
ing signs of an enormous strain put upon its political system 
by new emergencies, and the necessity of a much broader 
and more skilful adaptation of its principles of govern- 



AS A REFORMER. 137 

ment to these crises. The nation is no longer "in its 
gristle." It feels growing pains. It is fast maturing. It 
haSj at all events, outgrown its babyhood, and perhaps its 
first youth, and is entering upon its manhood, with man- 
hood's burdens and perils. The time of tutelage is replaced 
by the time of action. Reared in rustic seclusion, our 
country is now introduced into the family of nations, to 
take its position and do its work, and is also beginning to 
experience the seductive influence of Old-World civiliza- 
tion and ideas. Europe is pouring its myriads upon us of 
those whose characters and opinions are irrevocably shaped 
in anti-republican moulds. The Corinthian brass which 
we hope will be the result, is now in a state of violent 
fusion of its various elements. The end of all is, that in 
the present transition period the unity of the national idea 
is undergoing change. Greatly diverse forces are rushing 
in, and it is a time of danger. 

'' The juggler's hand is in the b.allot-box, 
While ofSce wins by tricks." 

Old ideals shine less and less clear. Republican faith 
grows dimmer and dimmer. Even as the primitive sim- 
plicity of the Christian faith was gradually lost under the 
influence of materialistic forms, so the pure republican idea 
is obscured. The moral tone of the nation is also lowered. 
The germinant truth of self-government, moral in essence, 
has been opposed by an uprising immoral custom, and powers 
of evil let loose by the immense expansion of the material 
prosperity of the country, are assailing the country's life. 
Our nation at present has more to fear from internal de- 
moralization than from any external foe. The love of 
gain is the root of all popular as well as personal evil. 
"Wherever there is gold, though guarded like the Nibe- 

10 



138 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

lungen treasures, there is the hissing and writhing of office- 
seekers. The history of political reform in this country is 
that of a small and determined group of men who have 
entered upon the disheartening labor of delivering the 
nation from the evils of official corruption. It needs some 
element of the heroic to carry on such a work. Charles 
Kingsley said, " We are growing more and more comfort- 
able, frivolous, pleasure-seeking, money-making ; more and 
more utilitarians; more and more mercenary in our politics, 
in our morals, in our religion ; thinking less of honor and 
duty, and more of loss and gain. I am born in an unheroic 
time. You must not ask me to become heroic in it." True 
reformers have had, so to speak, to take their life in their 
hands. They have had to assault those powerful organiza- 
tions which, in the strong language of the North American 
Review, " rob the people annually to the tune of millions 
and tens of millions, through its whiskey rings, its Indian 
rings, its custom-house rings, its railroad rings, and other 
legalized machinery which it manipulates." The tide sets 
strongly towards a reckless development and waste of our 
national resources instead of steady reform and economy. 
The theory is present aggrandizement instead of future 
permanent prosperity. It is the doctrine of spoils, of the 
sale of offices, of bad faith in government agents, of par- 
tisan interference in the business and imtronage of gov- 
ernment, of the betrayal of sacred trusts, of the farming 
of the highest civil, educational, and religious interests 
for purposes of gain, and of social corruption. While 
many of the charges against public men have been mani- 
festly false, yet there can be no doubt of the dead apathy 
and actual obstruction in regard to true reform in civil 
matters of those w^ho hold power in Congressional and 
governmental circles. There is too much government. 



AS A REFORMER. 139 

There are too many offices, too many incumbents in gov- 
ernment i^ay, who might earn their livelihood in private 
life and add something to the country's strength. Above 
all, honest and able men are wanted, — political leaders 
who will not rely on expedients, but principles, who regard 
the future results of political opinions, who do not look so 
much to party success as to national existence, who model 
themselves on Alexander Hamilton rather than Aaron 
Burr. Abraham Lincoln, with all his shrewdness as a 
keen-sighted Western politician and rail-splitter, believed 
in the old ideas of right, honesty, and freedom. The pro- 
gress of liberty was not a catchword with him. Henry 
Armitt Brown, though a young politician, was building him- 
self upon true models. He was a man of uncorrupted life. 
As was said of another, " of a simple, frank, unconscious 
character, he had in him the possibility of heroic action." 
He was courageous without making a display of it. Seek- 
ing boldly for mastery, he still followed Edmund Spenser's 

words : 

" In vain he seeketh others to suppress 
Who hath not learned himself first to subdue." 

And he was like one of Spenser's own heroes, 

" For he loathed leasing and base flattery, 
And loved simple truth and steadfast honesty." 

Mr. Brown did not confess to " the new gospel of non- 
reform." He believed that the rational basis of government 
was moral, was laid on individual rights, and that its object 
was the best good of society. Where, therefore, there ex- 
isted a civil abuse, he felt it to be his duty to attack it. 
This was an instinctive feeling. He had an intuitive dis- 
satisfaction with whatever was wrong in society. He nat- 
urally allied himself with reform. He began at once to 



140 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

act ^vith that party of uncompromising men who were 
ahnost hopelessly in the minority. He accepted the Amer- 
ican theory of "the omnipotence of a platform," and he 
prepared himself for a life-long contest with demagogism. 
He felt deeply, deeply, as he often expressed it, the de- 
plorable condition of public morals, of public and private 
faithlessness, of social and civil mismanagement. The 
great questions of labor and capital, of poor-relief, of 
socialism and communism, of the finances, of free-trade 
and national credit, were seething in his mind. It was for 
educated men wdth educated wills to take up these ques- 
tions. " Politics as a profession," and " the scholar in 
politics," he often said, were phrases he cared little about, 
but the times were perilous and his country needed her 
best men, — "men of clear intellects, strong convictions, 
high purposes, and honest minds." The questions before 
the country were not to be settled by the mob or by a 
happy chance. They were the most difficult and compli- 
cated of questions, even intellectually viewed. Such things 
would not right themselves. He held that society needed 
reconstruction in some of its first principles. Men should 
be taught to " mend their manners, and to cultivate their 
own free will as the arbiter of their own destiny." He 
felt the need of "new noblenesses, new generosities, new 
conceptions of duty, and how duty should be done." He 
would set his face like a flint against the jjublic decadence, 
and call for the making of a new order, with fresh blood 
in it, bold thoughts, culture directed by jiatriotic purposes. 
He believed that we must have good government, and that 
the one intolerable thing in this country is anarchy. 

AVe hasten to speak of the Presidential campaign. When 
it had fairly opened Mr. Brown was early in the field, and, 



"OiV THE STUMP." 141 

althoiig:h lie had been disappointed in the nomination of a 
candidate other than his own, he accepted with heartiness 
the choice which had been made by the Republican party, 
and girded Iiimself to tlie task of helping on Mr. Hayes's 
election as a man " who had rather be right than be Presi- 
dent," and one also pledged to reform views. To show 
how his efforts were estimated, a prominent member of the 
Cincinnati Convention has, in so many words, publicly de- 
clared that no one Eastern man did more at the West to in- 
sure Hayes's election to the Presidency than Henry Armitt 
Brown. His labors were chiefly concentrated in Ohio and 
neighboring States. Perhaps nothing could give a livelier 
account of his " stumping tour" than the following extract 
from one of his familiar letters, dated November 6, 1876 : 

" It is the eve of the most important election that has taken place 
in this country for many years. I reached home last night after my 
third journey since September 24. On that day I left town for the 
West, remaining till the 12th of October. On the 17th I started 
again, and was absent till the 23d. On the 27th I spoke in Burling- 
ton, and on last Tuesday — the 31st — I began my last pilgrimage. I 
made six speeches in Ohio; seven in Indiana; one in Wilmington, 
Delaware ; one in Burlington, New Jersey ; and eight in Pennsyl- 
vania; a total of twenty-three; and have been engaged either in 
speaking, or travelling for that purpose, thirty-three days out of the 
forty-three since September 23. 

" I must have spoken to a great many thousand people in that time, 
for my smallest meeting must have numbered six hundred, and from 
that figure they ran up to ten thousand and twelve thousand. I 
was fortunate in my associates as well as in sometimes being alone. 
In Ohio I held three meetings with Mr. James Tanner, of New 
York, and two by myself. In Indiana I spoke five times with Sen- 
ator Morton (though he held the afternoon and I the evening ones) ; 
once with Genei*al Harrison, the candidate for governor ; and once 
(to a torchlight procession) with Governor Woodford, of New York, 
and Mr. Kasson, member of Congress fi-om Iowa. Here I had Mr. 
Brosius of Lancaster, for a colleague at Scran ton, Pittston, and 



142 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

Bloomsburg; and Major Wilson Norris was with me at Easton ; but 
at Burlington, Wilmington, Gettysburg, York, Chambersburg, and 
Carlisle, I was alone. Mj^ shortest speech was half an hour, my 
longest two hours and a half, and generally I consumed more than 
an hour and a half of my hearers' patience and time. I mention all 
these things to show you how much I have gone into the fight which 
comes to an end to-day, and it may perhaps excuse me in your eyes 
for writing so little to you within the past two months. 

" I have read your letters to P. and myself, acknowledging the 
speech sent from Columbus, and K.'s of a similar date. As for the 
reported speech, I can only say that I knew you would want to see 
it and would judge it leniently, but it was hardly up to the oppor- 
tunity I expected to have, and my later speeches were very much 
better in all respects, I have learned many arts and wrinkles in 
this long campaign. As for the general result, I can hardly venture 
a prediction, although prophecies of defeat are liberally made on 
every side. Long before this meets your eye we shall both know 
the result, and prophecy is useless. But I think that the Republi- 
cans are going to be beaten. The canvass has been shamefully mis- 
managed by the 'regulars' and 'machine-men' of the party, who 
insisted on carrying it on in their own way. Instead of bringing 
the best men to the front and fighting the battle on Hayes's letter 
of acceptance, they preferred to believe that it was won without a 
struggle, before a shot had been fired, and when they did wake up 
it was very late in the day. Bristow, Schurz, Evarts, and men like 
them have done their utmost, and made a gallant fight. My own 
position is clear enough. I have supported Hayes because I believe 
him to be honest and sincere. I am in the party and yet not of it, 
and, personally, men like me may be moi'e benefited by its failure than 
by its success. The time may then come when we shall be needed. 
As long as the party continues to enjoy unbroken power such men 
as I are treated with no consideration, and indeed little respect. 
But I earnestly hope to see Hayes elected. I saw him several times 
when at Columbus. He is an educated, cultivated gentleman, and 
his wife is a charming woman. We had much pleasant conversa- 
tion, and if the thing turn out as I fear it will, I shall feel personal 
regret and disappointment. But I have learned to take political 
defeats philosophically, and shall accept this as I did McClure's 
and Bristow's, — with serenity and composure. But if we defeat the 



" ON THE STUMP." 143 

Democrats, — who in little persons have been too large for their 
clothing for a week past, and in larger ones have been unendurable 
from their boasting and noise, — I shall lift up a sound of rejoicing 
that shall be heard afar. 

" I could write you a column a mile long of my Western experi- 
ences. Such things as this I saw : imagine a little, new town, per- 
haps ten years old, its houses common, its streets full of dust. 
Through the streets pours an unceasing procession of wagons, car- 
riages, carts, buggies, and horsemen, with a mass of pedestrians on 
both its flanks. Many of the wagons, etc., are decorated with 
colored muslin, flowers, flags, and evergreens. Young girls dressed 
in white, with tri-colored scarfs and garlands of country flowers, fill 
them. Youths in a sort of improvised uniform ride in the crowd in 
companies. Here there is a huge wagon filled with girls, who go 
by singing, while from an elevated place in the centre a young 
woman, gotten up in spangled dress as a Goddess of Liberty, waves 
a flag or banner. There a log cabin with live 'coons on top, and 
corn and pumpkins hanging from the eaves, is drawn along on 
wheels, while two fellows dressed up are at the door, — one as an old 
woman knitting, the other a man chopping wood. Every sort of 
decoration and device is resorted to, and the ingenuity and versatility 
of the people are remarkable. At length the procession reaches a 
grove, where it winds about a speakers stand built between four 
trees, and there in a little while, seated in a chair, — for his legs are 
paralyzed, — Senator Morton talks to a countless multitude for two 
hours or more. In the evening I speak to them as long from the 
same place, by the light of torches ; or, if the night be stormy, in 
the court-house or town-hall. 

" General Harrison, our candidate, who ought to have been 
elected, is a gentleman of ability and character, — a grandson, too, 
of old Tippecanoe. Hence, of course, the log cabins and 'coons, 
which will remind you of the campaign of 1840. Here are some 
facts to interest you. There were made during the last week of the 
campaign in Indiana, by gentlemen from all parts of the country, 
— invited by the State committee, — eight hundred and thirty-eight 
speeches in each of the counties of the State. Those made by candi- 
dates or volunteers were too numerous to be counted. At one place 
the crowd that came to hear Governor Morton — but remained to 
hear us both — was estimated to be twelve thousand, and at Indiau- 

* 



144 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

apolis the torchlight procession had five thousand torches in line, 
many of them borne by lawyers and merchants and business men of 
standing ; our carriage, drawn by four horses, was escorted by about 
three hundred cavalry, or mounted torch-bearers, and through the 
street of the city we moved in the glare of continuous fireworks. 
When I rose to speak afterwards at the base-ball grounds, it seemed 
to me that I overlooked a lake of fire in Avhich ten thousand red- 
shir ted men were striving to keep afloat. 

"In this State the features of the campaign are tamer; but at 
Gettysburg I had an enormous meeting and a very enthusiastic one. 
Anthony Iliggins presided at Wilmington in the opera-house, 
which was packed. L. and P. and P. went down with me, and we 
dined at Tony's bachelor quarters, and supped after my speech at 
a friend's, — Mr. Buck's. At Burlington I spoke to a crowd packed 
into the old lyceum, such as neither Signor Blitz nor Dr. Valentine 
nor Mungandaus, the Chippewa chieftain, ever drew ; and when I 
spoke of what I had seen on the stage on which I stood, and de- 
scribed the latter scalping his fallen enemy, and, amid a profuse 
spilling of red-flannel blood, braining him with a brand-new toma- 
hawk purchased for the occasion at Page & Thomas's, and decorated 
with eagle feathers wrung from a turkey that might have hung in 
state in the old market-house in Union Street, many a man in the 
audience remembered things he had not thought of perhaps for 
twenty years. So much, then, for this matter of the stump. I know 
you will be amused to hear these things." 

In describing one of his Western talks, he says : " I 
delivered last night a speech to a crowd of between three 
and four thousand in the Capitol Square. Of course, in 
the actual delivery I varied it with remarks and ' stories,' 
which are omitted in the report." His address at Columbus, 
Ohio, September 26, 1876, — one (as he said) of twenty-two, — 
would serve as a good specimen of these campaign speeches. 
It draws the lines of party politics with bold strokes. It 
reviews the financial question acutely ; the political situa- 
tion of the South is seriously and yet candidly treated; 
and, lastly, the subject of governmental reform of the civil 



CONTEST FOR THE PHILADELPHIA MAYORALTY. 145 

service is discussed in a way that convinces one tliat the 
speaker is not a merely theoretic but a practical reformer. 

At the beginning of the year 1877 the Reformers were 
a<rain at work concentratins; their efforts on a nomination for 
the mayoralty of Philadelphia. Both William S. Stokley 
and Joseph L. Caveu were prominent and honored Repub- 
licans, but the latter was run as an independent candidate, 
sustained by Republicans, Democrats, Liberals, and all 
shades of Reformers. He had made a decided record 
against municipal extravagance and corruption, and had 
done faithful work in building up a powerful public senti- 
ment in favor of retrenchment, economy, and a general 
reform in finance and the public service. A great meeting 
of citizens and tax-payers was held at Horticultural Hall, 
under the auspices of the Reform Club, on the evening 
of January 20, 1877, William Welsh, Esq., in the chair. 
Several gentlemen spoke, though Mr. Brown's was the prin- 
cipal address of the occasion, and, by some of his friends, 
was considered the most powerful political speech he ever 
made. Its closing sentences were solemn in their simple 
impressiveness : 

" My countrymen : 'Time makes no pauses in his march.' The 
moments are swiftly passing, and you who make up this mighty 
multitude will presently have scattered to your homes. Great 
opportunities come but once and stay but a little while. Pays 
quickly make the weeks, and soon this battle will be lost or won. 
Change is ever going on about us, and you who listen, and I who 
speak, shall in brief time pass from the stage on which we are to-day 
the actors, and our places be taken by our own children. Let it not 
then be written, that while the sounds of your great festival still 
lingered in the air, ere yet that pleasant city which Penn founded, 
where Jefi'erson wrote, and Washington lived and Franklin died, 
had filled her second century, self-government was already an out- 
cast, and true liberty could find no stone to pillow her head. Let 



146 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BRO WN. 

tliein rather say that then, as always, in every crisis of her history, 
though leaders were weak and parties wanting, the heart of the 
people did not falter, and the sons of those who had so often pro- 
tected others still had the courage to protect themselves." 

As this is the last of his public efforts in the Avork of 
municipal reform, it should be emphatically stated that its 
effect upon public opinion both at the moment and onward 
was great. It has been declared by a prominent public 
man whose opinion is of great weight, that the local Reform 
movement in Philadelphia began and ended with Henry 
Armitt Brown. He certainly embodied the best there was 
in it, and his mantle has fallen upon no successor. Would 
that his example might continue to be influential, so that 
he might be, as it were, the founder or the type of a race 
of politicians in this country who, keeping themselves pure 
from personal aims, might make politics the noblest of 
sciences ! Then something like a broad impulse might be 
given to public affairs, and a theory of national govern- 
ment might be carried out, which would put the labored 
absolutistic systems of a Stein or a Bismarck, colossal as 
they are, to the blush. 

During these busy years of public life his early friends, 
and his college friends especially, were not forgotten. One 
of these during this period came to Philadelphia in a state 
of despondency so profound that it ended in mental de- 
rangement, or something nearly bordering upon it, so that 
he became an inmate for six weeks of the Pennsylvania 
Asylum. During that time Mr. Brown visited him con- 
stantly, sometimes every day, talking with him, encouraging 
him, amusing him, fairly lifting him out of his dreadful 
condition by the force of his indomitable affectionate will, 
so that he was, mainly, as it would seem, through this in- 
strumentality, restored to his normal state. One closely 



SPEECH ENDORSING HAYES'S ADMINISTRATION. 147 

related to the poor sufferer, during this trying period writes: 

" As one of 's dearest friends I thought it my turn to 

render thanks for your great kindness to him. We all feel 
most tenderly grateful to you, and deeply appreciate that 
noble friendship which prompts you to take upon yourself 

so much trouble for his sake. desires me most heartily 

to express her thanks to you for your labor and success in 
persuading him to send his letter, — a truly 'great thing' for 
him to do, and no one else could have induced him to do it. 
I think that ' Harry Brown' is the only link which binds 
him to what is pleasant, and to life." 

At a meeting called by the Union League to endorse the 
administration of President Hayes, held March 12, 1877, Mr. 
Brown made a short speech, in the course of which, consid- 
ering his political status, these very generous words occur : 

" I ain no prophet, and political prophecy is the most dangerous 
of all. But I have no fears for this government or people. I am 
one of the youngest in this company, but I have seen extraordinary 
things. If I look back less than a year in point of time, I behold 
enough. I have seen in that short space the most marvellous dis- 
plays of patriotic spirit and common sense. I have seen two great 
parties alike demanding a safe and honorable policy in their plat- 
forms, and expressing in their candidates, each as •well as it was 
able, its idea of Reform. I have seen a long and heated contest 
followed by four months of uncertainty and doubt as to who should 
be our ruler and what the controlling power in our government. I 
have seen a free people, where suffrage is universal and liberty ab- 
solute, remain tranquil and self-controlled in the midst of things 
that might have shaken to pieces the strongest despotism. I have 
seen forty millions of freemen intrusting to fifteen individuals the 
question who should govern them for four years to come. I have 
seen those fifteen persons decide by a majority of one that he should 
be chief magistrate who claimed to be chosen by the smallest ma- 
jority possible in the electoral college, — a single vote ; and those 
forty millions yield a perfect obedience to the law. I have seen that 



148 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

man, standing uncovered in the presence of the people, declare him- 
self their servant rather than his party's, — the lover of his country 
rather than himself. I see him to-day, in the Presidential chair, 
proclaim a broad and generous policy ; a brave, benevolent, consist- 
ent statesmanship, fulfilling the definition of Edmund Burke, that 
he is the true statesman who ' unites the ability to improve with the 
disposition to preserve.' " 

In the crisis immediately succeeding the election, Mr. 
Brown, with other prominent politicians, had been "inter- 
viewed." He was modest in giving his opinion, but while 
fully prepared to support a legitimate decision either way, 
he was decided in his belief that Hayes had been duly 
elected. He thought that both parties were not without 
blame, tliat no man or party could afford to profit by a 
fraud, and that parties themselves were not an end, but 
only a means to an end, — the prosperity and honor of the 
country. The laws must be sustained at all events. The 
constitutional forms of law must be carried out. There 
must be a conscientious settlement of the electoral question. 
He wished the electoral college were abolished, but it was 
not, and its rules must be implicitly followed. He did not 
fear the local trouble that threatened Xho. Presidential in- 
auguration. A system which could stand the strain it was 
then undergoing could stand anything. " We have plenty 
of patriots," he said, " if we have few statesmen, and, 
after all, the situation doesn't demand statesmanship as 
much as it does common sense and self-control. I don't 
think it perilous, because, though I'm not very old, I've 
lived long enough to have seen an abundance of those 
qualities in my countrymen." 

These activities were interrupted by another visit to 
Europe in the summer and autumn of 1877. During this 
journey he wrote many letters for the newspapers, in which 



THE VOYAGE OF THE ''PENNSYLVANIA." 149 

he spoke of European politics and described prominent 
men wliom he saw. One of these letters is taken up with 
a graphic portraiture of Thiers ; another with an account 
of a French election, and how the voting is done in Paris ; 
but we will quote from these letters only his narrative of 
an eventful and perilous passage home on the steamship 
" Pennsylvania/' during the early days of November. 

" I think it worth while to try and give the Times some account 
of the recent remarkable voyage of the 'Pennsylvania.' We left 
Liverpool about 4 p.m. on the 31st of October. The night before 
had been dark and stormy, and when evening fell, as we came out 
of the Mersey, the prospect was not favorable. But the next day 
broke pleasantly enough, and there was nothing in the western sky 
as we steamed out of Queenstown harbor and along the Irish coast 
to suggest the dangers that were in store for us. Friday, the 2d of 
November, was a pleasant day, and we spent most of the time on 
deck. Our company was not a large one. Exclusive of the servants 
and children, I think we numbered but twenty-five. Friday night 
when I went to bed we were steaming along at eleven or twelve 
knots, with the sky partially overcast and a stiff but not unfavorable 
breeze. During the darkness we encountered the storm. I thought 
the old ship was rolling rather heavily when I awoke on the morn- 
ing of the 3d, but I did not imagine the true state of things. Those 
who had been on deck told me after breakfast that it was stormy 
and wet up there, and I amused myself below. About three o'clock, 
however, I concluded to go up and take a look. 

" The sky was full of clouds, angry and savage-looking, though 
there were patches of blue sky to be seen, and through one of them 
the sun was shining brightly. But the wind was dead ahead and 
blowing a gale. I stuck my head out, and it seemed as if the wind 
would blow it off my shoulders. The sea was magnificent. In five 
previous voyages I had never seen it so high. Great waves, longer 
than the ship, and, as it seemed me, higher than the boats on her 
sides, followed one another swiftly, tossing their white-caps into 
spray as they split in two on both sides of us. The ' Pennsylvania' 
would rise up like a living creature over the tops of the highest, 
and then rush down into the boiling valley that lay between them 



150 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

with incredible speed. One after another I could see great ridges of 
water approaching us at a terrible rate with strange regularity, and 
each time as they struck our bow the ship would shake herself and 
make a rush and pass over them in safety. I hung on to the side 
of the door and watched the waves break at the bow, and sometimes 
come rushing back over the deck, with intensest interest. Presently 
the chief officer, Mr. Dodge, came sliding along, and stopped for a 
minute's chat. 'A heavy westerly gale,' he called it, and 'a very 
bad sea,' and presently he slid oiF to his duty and I went down- 
stairs to dinner. Very little was said about the weather at the meal, 
which was pleasant enough in spite of the rolling, and after an 
evening passed in chat we all turned in, as we thought, to sleep. 
But by ten or eleven o'clock slumber was impossible. The motion 
was a combination of all that is disagreeable in the movement of a 
ship. At one minute the vessel rolled, at another she pitched, now 
she seemed to be climbing skyward, and in an instant pitched into 
an abyss, to be brought up suddenly with a terrible thump. By 
midnight I felt sure that the sea which I had watched with such 
admiration was nothing to what we now encountered. Slowly the 
hours dragged along, and we struggled through them. 

" At last day came, and with it an increase of fury in the storm. 
Of course there was no going on deck and little comfort in the 
' social hall,' for the windows and doors had to be tightly shut. All 
day we watched and waited, comforting ourselves with the thought 
that so furious a storm could not last many hours, but the wind and 
waves knew better. Sunday evening repeated the torments of the 
night before, but about midnight the wind went down somewhat, and 
Captain Harris, with characteristic thoughtfulness, sent word to the 
ladies of the fact. After that, for a few hours, almost every one 
slept a little; but Monday morning broke in storm and disappoint- 
ment. As if it had only been resting to renew the attack more 
furiously than ever, the gale came on with daybreak. From that 
time until sundown, and from that till Tuesday morning and all 
Tuesday and the night that followed, it raged with fury. On AYed- 
nesday morning it had long ceased to be a gale and become a hurri- 
cane. The wind (they estimated on the bridge) blew with a velocity of 
one hundred miles an hour, and the sea was lifted up into mountains. 
All that day and the next, until Friday morning, the 9th of Novem- 
ber, it blew a hurricane. It is as impossible for me to describe those 



THE VOYAGE OF THE '' PENNSYLVANIA." 151 

da5''s as it is for me to forget them. They were dark and terrible. 
From morning till night, from sundown until daybreak, for six 
nights and days, there was no change. As one looked out from the 
windows of the social hall, or through the tightly-fastened ports, the 
scene was indescribably awful. Beneath a leaden sky, far as one 
could see, raged the tossing ocean. Without a lull the wind howled 
and hissed through the rigging, and lashed the sea into a mass of 
foam. In every direction, on all sides, the waves broke, dashing the 
spray until the air seemed full of rain-like clouds. 

" So the stormy days crept by and dragged the gloomier nights 
after them. About ten o'clock on the sixth night, — Thursday, — 
when all hands in the cabin had retired, not to sleep, but to watch 
for da3'light, the ship gave an unusually heavy lurch to the star- 
board, and for the hundredth time shipped a heavy sea. In a second 
followed a crash that shook her from stem to stern, and sounded like 
a thunderbolt. It was made up of three distinct sounds in one, — 
the dull fall of a heavy weight on the deck, the splintering and 
crushing of wood and glass, and the pouring of a large stream of 
water into the cabin. It was a deafening, terrifying sound. I 
bounded into the saloon and beheld a memorable sight. Beside my 
door sat a lady with her hands clasped together, gasping with fear. 
Across the saloon were three others as white as a sheet, in various 
attitudes of alarm ; the startled face of one of the men appeared at 
the door on my side of the ship; and down the companion-way, as 
the vessel rolled to port, poured a huge torrent of water. In a mo- 
ment we rolled to starboard, the stream stopped pouring in and 
dashed furiously against the tables and piano, wetting me in an in- 
stant above the ankles, and splashing to the ceiling. Half a minute 
later everybody was in the saloon, — no one had apparently undressed 
and gone to bed, — and for a little while we were busy in picking up 
our luggage from the floors of the cabins, into which the water at 
once penetrated. The unhappy stewards rushed to and fro, bailing 
out and mopping up the water, and in half an hour the wet carpets 
were taken up and the water dried from the floor, the broken win- 
dows, through which the water had come, nailed up and closed, and 
nothing remained for us but to talk the thing over and wait for day- 
light, I must s.ay that it was a plucky company, — no tears were 
shed and no hysterics indulged in by the ladies, and, as far as I saw, 
every man was quiet and ready and self-possessed. But it certainly 



152 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

was a startling incident, coming to us as it did after so many daj'S 
and nights of anxiety and apprehension. 

" * "We had taken on board,' said one of the officers to me, ' a 
hundred seas as bad as that on that day alone, but they struck us 
fair.' This one came as the wind began to fall a little on the star- 
board quarter. It struck the right end of the bridge and carried 
away the canvas covering, broke in and ruined the second boat, 
lifted the third boat out of the davits and hurled it into a thousand 
pieces on top of the skylight over the engines, twisted the fourth 
boat out of the davits (breaking one of the latter, a piece of ham- 
mered iron four and a half inches thick, like a pipe-stem) and 
smashed it to bits against the corner of the social hall, breaking two 
windows and letting in the water, and, besides damaging two other 
life-rafts, tore the last one on the starboard side out of its place and 
laid it snugly over the skylight on the saloon. Omitting details, this 
was the result of one wave. There were some of us who, as we 
crawled about on deck next day and witnessed the destruction, 
could not help thinking what might have happened to us had any- 
thing in the steering apparatus broken or become disarranged. 
When Friday morning came the wind had fallen greatly, though 
the sea was still high, and we had some music in the cabin. The 
storm seemed at last to have spent its force, and our spirits rose 
with the barometer. About ten o'clock we dispersed, the ship had 
begun to run smoothly, and, for one, I expected to get a nap, the 
first for a long time. All had become quiet, when suddenly the 
engine stopped. I sprang up and climbed the stairway. ' A steamer 
is signalling us,' said a fellow-passenger. Looking out, I saw a 
curious light close by on the port side, and then hurried down for 
my hat and overcoat, for it was wet and very cold. When I got up 
again in a minute afterward the light was close under the stern. 
'It's a wreck,' said a dozen voices in the darkness, and then faintly 
through the blustering storm came the cry, ' Steamer, ahoy !' 

" As I crept along the deck, feeling my way, I could see a bright 
light burning close to the water's edge. Captain Harris commanded 
silence, and called in stentorian tones, 'Have you got a boat?' No 
sound came back but the roaring of the wind, and the light grew 
fainter and more distant. 'Close to the water's edge,' 'the masts 
torn out of her,' ' a big wreck,' passed in whispers as the captain 
tried to make her out with the glass, — and we stood in a group near 



THE VOYAGE OF THE ''PENNSYLVANIA." I53 

the wheel-house watching the fast-fading light. Suddenly it disap- 
peared, suggesting to my mind a horrible possibility. 'Call for a 
volunteer crew,' came from the captain's lips, and he ran forward to 
the bridge. In a few moments the wreck's light again appeared, 
faint and flickering, and where we stood holding on to the bulwarks 
we could hear Captain Harris's voice giving orders even above the 
whistling of the wind. In a few moments the forward boat on the 
starboard side swung clear. Mr. Shackford, the second officer, and 
the six seamen who had promptly volunteered, were on board ; the 
order was given, and down the frail thing descended with them into 
the black, seething abyss below. For an instant I thought they 
would disappear beneath the ship as she rolled heavily over on them. 
But the next they were tossed in the air as high as the bulwarks. 
A faint light made them visible to us as they pulled for tlieir lives. 
Once, twice, thrice, as we watched them, they were sucked back 
under the great ship's side, as if doomed to be crushed beneath her, 
but at last a huge wave caught them, and away they went. And 
Heaven favored that gallant crew, and Captain Harris understood 
his business. By keeping the ship in motion and moving her 
around in a circle he got to leeward of the wreck again, and in 
about an hour the boat came sweeping back toward us again. 
Around the bow she swept and away off into the darkness, whirled 
about as if she were a feather ; at last they managed, after several 
efforts, to catch the rope, and one by one as the life-boat rose to the 
sea they were picked out and set firmly on deck again. They had 
got near enough to hear voices on the wreck cry, ' Come alongside.' 
"No one had asked to be taken off nor called for provisions, and 
the sea ran too high to get near, so Mr. Shackford answered that we 
would lay to till morning, and after trying to communicate further 
returned to the ' Pennsylvania.' I pass over the inconveniences of 
the night that followed. Its physical discomforts Avere the worst of 
the voyage, as we lay till daybreak rolling slowly to and fro in the 
trough of that tremendous sea. At last the long-delayed morning 
began slowly to break, and the horrible blackness of the sea and 
sky gave place to a cold and cruel gray. But with the hidden sun 
the wind began to rise. By seven o'clock it was blowing another 
gale, and the impatient sea was being whipped into its old fury 
again. There, as we steamed towards her, was the wreck, a trim, 
staunch-looking bark of thi-ee or four hundred tons, riding the waves 

II 



154 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

buoyantly, with two short jury-masts bearing a storm-sail, and hold- 
ing her well to the wind. Except for the disproportionate shortness 
of her masts, she looked to my landsman's eye all right. Two or 
three men could be seen on deck, and the smoke that came out of 
the stove-pipe in the cabin roof told that she had the comfort of a 
fire. But we could do no more than see her. Help her we could 
not. No boat could live in such a sea, and we lost our fourth boat 
in the attempt. As a last effort, about ten o'clock. Captain Harris 
got as near as he dared go in such a sea, and launched a life-raft 
with a long cable, hoping that he could get it towards the wreck by 
the aid of the sea. But repeated efforts availed little, and by eleven 
o'clock in the morning our own safety compelled us to head to sea. 
The weather thickened up, and presently we lost sight of the unfor- 
tunate vessel. Further efforts were useless, and we crept slowly 
towards the westward. 

" Such was this memorable voyage. Of the severity and length 
of these storms there seemed to be among the officers but one 
opinion. Rarely had any one seen so fierce a gale, never so bad a 
sea, and the way both lasted was beyond precedent. Had the ' Penn- 
sylvania' not been the best of ships, exceptionally staunch and strong, 
and from her peculiar model riding the waves with wonderful buoy- 
ancy, — and had she not been commanded and officered as she was by 
men of great experience and skill, and extraordinary courage and 
endurance, her career would undoubtedly have ended in those words, 
'lost at sea,' or 'never heard of,' which stand against the names of 
many a noble ship, and are the curt epitaph of many a gallant 
company. Henceforth these words will have for me a new signifi- 
cance. I think I can imagine now, perhaps, some of those unseen 
tragedies, — the anxiety, the hope, the sudden crash, the gallant 
struggles, the roaring wind, the cruel, overwhelming sea, the wild 
confusion, the terror, the despair, the short but awful agony. Cer- 
tain it is, that never did my eyes rest on a pleasanter sight than 
when, on Thursday morning last, I stood on the deck of the ' Penn- 
sylvania' and beheld a broad and noble river flowing majestically to 
the sea between long lines of low and level shore, and before me the 
spires and steeples of a placid city beginning to rise out of the 
marshes and meadows of League Island. For not stately London, 
nor brilliant Paris, nor quaint old Nuremberg, not the green fields 
and woods of England, nor the magnificent scenery of the Alps, nor 



BURLINGTON BI-CENTENNIAL ADDRESS. I55 

all the hills and dales that lie between, could offer me the charms 
that dwell in those narrow streets, with their monotonous rows of 
formal, pleasant homes, which, but a week before, I had more than 
once thought I should never see again." 

Mr. Brown, in fulfilment of an invitation received some 
time before his visit to Europe, immediately after his return, 
quietly, but diligently, set himself about preparing his 
Burlino-ton bi-centennial Historical Address. His labors 
and investigations were indefatigable. He strove to com- 
bine amplitude of detail with accuracy, and no hound ever 
tracked his prey more unremittingly than he followed up 
an historical fact, however minute, that added life to his 
history. He went to first sources. His accustomed seat 
in an alcove of the Philadelphia Historical Society Library 
is pointed out, where for days and weeks he labored in the 
compilation of his materials. He spared himself no pains. 
He read extensively and yet selected with severest care. 
He corresponded widely with those from whom he could 
derive the least information. Days of incessant research 
were considered by him as not lost if they brought but the 
slightest historic matter to his store. Family memorials as 
well as public documents were ransacked. The result was 
something of rare and permanent value. 

The opening services of the occasion are thus described 
in the Philadelphia Weekly Times of December 15, 1877 : 

" The old Quaker town of Burlington, New Jersey, 
celebrated on Thursday, the 6th of December, the two 
hundredth anniversary of its formation. The morning 
opened clear and cool. The river-banks and pine-lands 
gave up their population, and Burlington's own seven 
thousand people let it be known that they could act the 
host with the old-fashioned Fourth of July spirit. The 
one hundred guns sounded faintly in the dawn because a 



156 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

stiff breeze swept uj) the curve in the Delaware and bore 
inland all the noise of the early morning. Chimes from 
St. Mary's and all the steeples of the academic city were 
half drowned by the flap and flutter of the decorations 
which stuck around everywhere, from stores, dwellings, 
and trees. The rallying-point for the crowd was at the 
intersection of the two wide thoroughfares. Broad and 
Main Streets, and when, at ten o'clock. General E. Burd 
Grubb, the marshal, and his aides brought it into order, 
the procession was formed and moved out of Main Street. 
Following the cavalcade of citizens came the militia com- 
panies of Burlington, Beverly, Camden, and Mount Holly, 
the fire companies in gorgeous array, and a number of civil 
societies. Meanwhile, the crowd enjoyed itself on the 
sidewalks, and bands of young men in fantastic attire 
wandered about and added to the excitement and the 
racket. The chui-ch-bells rang out more clearly above the 
din about noon, because the wind blew less sharply, and 
the mid-day salute quickened the step of such of the tramp- 
ing soldier boys as were in earshot. 

"At three o'clock the commemorative services were 
begun in Birch's new opera-house. Steady- going, well-to- 
do folks of Burlington, Trenton, Mount Holly, Beverly, 
Camden, and many Philadelphians formed the audience. 
On the stage were a dozen circles of distinguished gentle- 
men. The Right Rev. William H. Odenheimer, Bishop 
of Northern New Jersey, sat in his episcopal robes in the 
chair of honor. By his side was Vicar-General George 
Herbert Doane, of Newark, and behind them were ex- 
Governor Parker, tall and sturdy, ex-Governor Newell, 
Congressman J. Howard Pugh, Hon. John F. Babcock, 
a score of well-known clergymen, and members of the State 
Legislature and the Burlington City Council. 



BURLINGTON BI-CENTENNIAL ADDRESS. I57 

" Bishop Odenheimer made a short prayer. A musical 
piece suggesting the heroism of the early Qualcer pioneers 
was sung by the Orpheus Glee Club, and the president of 
the bi-centennial committee, Congressman Pugh, stepped 
forward. The address of the day, he said, belonged to 
another man, one pre-eminently fitted to make it, yet he 
would congratulate his townsmen upon the unity of inter- 
est, fervor, and enthusiasm which was manifestly charac- 
teristic of the occasion. Dr. Pugh said: 'And now here is 
one whom we claim as a Burlington boy, for most of the 
time since his boyhood, at least, he has made his summer 
home with us, Henry Armitt Brown, Esq.'" 

The address itself must be estimated upon its own 
merits. After its delivery, notices eulogistic and letters 
congratulatory poured in. We give a few of these letters, 
dated two or three months later, from those at a distance, 
whose judgment might be presumed to be cooler, in ac- 
knowledgment of printed copies of the address, and which 
naturally find place here : 

" Boston, March 19, 1878. 

" My dear Mr. Brown, — I have read with as much 
delight as instruction your eloquent and noble Burlington 
oration. I was especially impressed with the passage re- 
lating to the Quaker petitioners to Parliament, who offered 
themselves as hostages for their imprisoned brethren. I 
agree with you in thinking it one of the most pathetic 
instances in English history. But the whole of your ad- 
dress is admirable in spirit, in tone, in command of novel 
facts. 

" Renewing my thanks to you for enabling me to indulge 
in the luxury of reading such an oration, 

" I remain, very sincerely yours, 

"E. P. Whipple." 



158 MEMOIR OF HENRV ARMITT BROWN. 

" Boston, March 19, 1878. 
" My dear Sir, — I thank you for the pleasure I have 
had in reading your very elaborate and interesting oration. 
Plymouth Rock, we shall have to confess, has not sent forth 
all the heroes, or called forth all the eloquence. I only 
wish that as much knowledge, as much taste, as much lively 
description could be found in all the addresses in which 
the anniversaries of our historical epochs are commemorated. 
" Believe me, my dear sir, 

" Very truly yours, 

" O. W. Holmes." 

" Boston, March 25, 1878. 
"Dear Mr. Brown, — I thank you for sending me 
your oration on the 'Settlement of Burlington.' 

" I had skimmed it over in the newspaper, but I have 
given it a worthier perusal in the pamphlet. 

" It is an interesting and eloquent discourse, and I con- 
gratulate you on your success. I hope you will have 
spared a copy for our Massachusetts Historical Society. 
" Believe me, with kiud regards to your wife, 
" Yours very truly, 

"Robert C. Winthrop. 

" P.S. — I did not fail to observe with interest the classi- 
cal tribute to the memory of your father," 

"Oak Knoll, Danvers, Mass., March 26, 1878. 

" Hon. H. a. Brown. 

" Dear Friend, — I have read with great satisfaction 
thy instructive and eloquent address. As a member of the 
Society of Friends, I heartily thank thee for it. I hojie 
the perusal of it will have a good effect upon a class in our 



BURLINGTON BI-CENTENNIAL ADDRESS. 159 

Society wlio make it a point to disparage and undervalue 
the early Quakers. 

" With high regard, thy friend, 

" John G. Whittier." 

" Cambridge, March 26, 1878. 

"Dear Mr. Brown, — I have received and read with 
great interest and pleasure your oration on the ' Settlement 
of Burlington.' 

" It is a very stirring and eloquent production, and very 
picturesque in its details. 

" Please accept my cordial thanks for your thought of 
me, and for making me one of your hearers at second hand, 
— that is to say, one of your attentive and sympathizing 
readers. 

" I remember Burlington in the old stage-coach and 
steamboat days ; and remember passing the entrance to 
Joseph Bonaparte's grounds. It was in May; and the 
scenery seemed, and still seems to me in memory, very 
lovely. Your words bring it all back to me. It is like 
presenting me a bouquet. 

" Be kind enough to give my best regards and remem- 
brance to Mrs. Brown, and believe me, 
"Yours very truly, 

"Henry W. Longfellow." 

"Washington, D. C, March 28, 1878. 

"My dear Sir, — I have received your oration and 
have read it, as I always do what you write, with great 
interest. 

"You inquire respecting unprinted accounts of the 
winter at Valley Forge. I apprehend that there Ls very 
little, or nothing, to be added to the printed material that 



160 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARM ITT BROWN. 

relates to that subject. I do not know of anything relat- 
ing to it in the public archives that is not already before 
the world. Among my own manuscript collections, I have 
one journal of the time, and at least one allusion to it, 
made by German oflScers who were there. These shall be 
perfectly at your service if you chance to come to Wash- 
ington ; but I am bound to say there is nothing in them 
which would repay the time and trouble of the journey. 

" Very truly yours, 

"Geo. Baxcrofi." 

These letters may possibly appear to be the courteous 
expressions of those who knew how to say kind things to 
young men of worth and promise ; but that they were 
more, and were genuine words of praise, we think the ad- 
dress will show, when candidly read. The charge of pro- 
lixity does not hold against this oration. Its style, while 
finished, is not highly rhetorical. It is in quiet good taste 
as befitting the peaceful old Quaker town about which its 
loving memories linger. It has more of the unpretending 
plainness of perfect speech than is commonly found. It is 
not woixly, but terse and solid with facts. Whole periods 
of history are analyzed and com^irehensively summed up. 
W^ithout dwelling minutely upon them, an event, a char- 
acter, a scene, are painted in a few vigorous strokes. The 
address has that picturesque life and freshne&s which is the 
result of the most thorough study, and of a genuine interest 
on the part of the speaker. As it draws near its close, there 
are touches of delicate pathos quite inimitable, and best 
understood by those to whom it was spoken. It is an emi- 
nently sensible address throughout, — homespun, we would 
call it, if it were not so beautiful ; — and, above all, there 
is an appreciation of what is genuinely noble in principle 



POLITICAL QUESTIONS. \Ql 

Aveakencd by no conventional narrowness or mere senti- 
mental ism. The manly ring of righteousness is in it. 
It exhibits the character of one who sees the true great- 
ness of the beginnings of a State which is established in 
justice. 

Political matters at that time, when the financial ques- 
tion, the Southern question, civil reform, and other great 
subjects awaiting the action of a new administration were 
agitated, mingled with professional business, seem to have 
taken up the early part of the last year of Mr. Brown's 
life. He was, as one of his friends writes, "still dreaming 
of reform." He held on to that idea, not disheartened 
for a moment, urging it constantly upon such men as Mr. 
Schurz, Mr. Bristow, and other leading politicians of his 
own school, and pouring out to them what he had in his 
heart. He would do his part to give a decided trend to 
the political current. He was earnest in the hope of the 
advancement of the main object of his life, believing as he 
did that government itself was the best instrument of polit- 
ical reform. He had indeed no Quixotic conception of 
perfect justice being done, but he thought that an organi- 
zation already established — viz., the State — was one of the 
most powerful means of securing the redress and protection 
of the rights of all, and the greatest good of the greatest 
number, which is the end of true government. He had 
more confidence in men than others had, and he wished to 
make trial of all wdio promised anything. At the same 
time he was keen-sighted, and was not deceived by appear- 
ances. He was already suspicious of some " whose leader- 
ship is no rebuke to wrong even if it does not discourage 
the right." He prophesied " the biggest fight, within six 
months of Governor Hayes's inaugural, that ever tried the 



162 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

courage of a President." He longed for " the more posi- 
tive assertion of the reform principle, which would give 
courage to honest men in the nation." He thought, with 
a few others, that " bold leadership" and '' heroic treat- 
ment" were sometimes required. These, and not "good 
intentions" alone, could inspire courage at a time when 
national affairs looked so dark. 

On the questions of hard money, of Southern pacifica- 
tion, and kindred topics, he tliought the government at 
that time had made a fair record, or, at least, had made a 
fair show, but there were peculiar difficulties arising from 
organized opposition in the Senate, and feeble support in 
the House, on the question of the reform of the civil ser- 
vice, and here he felt that a united effort by the purest and 
best men in the nation, and especially in the Republican 
party, was demanded. He was restless under the silence 
and supineness of the Reform party in the land, and, if he 
had lived, his voice would have rung out in unmistakable 
tones, urging on what he considered to be the cause of civil 
purification. 

On the subject of the tariff Mr. Brown differed with 
many good men, and with some of his best friends, and, 
true to his Yale training, was strongly inclined (though not 
yet entirely given over) to free-trade views, as being, on the 
whole, better than even a temporary system of protection 
which necessitates governmental intermeddling with trade ; 
in fact, he had been chosen, about a year before, to the 
membership of the Cobden Club, London, and had been 
asked to contribute a paper upon free trade. 

At a bar meeting held March 14, 1878, in memory of 
an eminent lawyer, James H. Castle, Esq., Mr. Brown was 
one of the speakers. His remarks were brief but to the 
point. He said : 



SPEECH IN MEMORY OF JAMES H. CASTLE. 1(33 

" Mr. Chairman, — Before these resolutions are put to a vote I 
want to say a word. I have no wish to make a speech, for I am not 
unmindful that that privilege belongs to those who are older at the 
bar and older in friendship with Mr. Castle than I can claim to 
have been. But I grew up within the sunny circle which his nature 
threw around him, and for more than a third of my lifetime I have 
enjoyed a friendship with him as close as was possible, perhaps, be- 
tween two men separated, in point of age, by more than a quarter 
of a century. I should be sorry to mar the harmony of this most 
harmonious meeting by any attempt to add words of mine to what 
has been already said in eulogy of him, but the allusions made by 
my friends, Mr. Morris and Judge Mitchell, to the melancholy pre- 
diction written on his photograph, have suggested to me, as I sat 
here, that I should tell you what happened when I saw him last. 
Less than three weeks ago — a fortnight ago on Saturday evening — 
I was told that Mr. Castle was in the parlor. AVhen I hurried 
down-stairs he greeted me as heartily as ever, and told me that he 
had heard that I was engaged in something in which perhaps he 
could help me. He had, he said, a map drawn by an officer of La- 
fayette's staff, of the retreat from Barren Hill, which he wanted me 
to see. It was an original, and unique. I said I would call at his 
house and get it. ' No,' he replied ; ' I will leave it at your office 
on Monday morning as I go to mine.' I repeated that I had 
rather call on him. ' Let me have my way about it,' he interrupted ; 
and I acquiesced. He did not wait until Monday, but, characteris- 
tically, brought the map and left it for me the next evening at my 
door. I noticed that he spoke in a husky voice, as if he had a cold. 
It was not that, he explained, but something which had begun to 
grow in his throat and gave him trouble. He had just come from 
his physicians, and, said he, ' They are going to cut my throat.' 
He answered my anxious questions with a half-serious, half-jocular 
manner that was natural to him, and presently arose to go. I went 
with him to the door. As he stood for a moment on the steps he 
turned, and, taking my hand in his, said, 'Well, I sha'n't see you 
again, so we had better say good-by.' "Oh, Mr. Castle,' I exclaimed, 
' don't talk so !' ' Yes,' he repeated, ' you will never see me again. 
Good-by, my boy ;' and, with a warm squeeze of my hand, he 
passed quickly down the steps and vanished into the night. 

" I know very well, sir, that the life of man is short. ' The life 



164 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

of man,' said the old Saxon thane, 'is like the flight of a sparrow in 
the winter-time, that comes in at the open door, flutters for a mo- 
ment in the firelight on the hearth, and, on a sudden, darts out 
again into the icy darkness.' I may be the next one of this com- 
pany to follow him whom we lament to-day. But should my life be 
lengthened to the years of the venerable gentleman who sits before 
me, I shall never forget that manly form as it stood there for a mo- 
ment, for the last time, on my threshold. I shall never forget that 
beautiful countenance and the warm grasp of that honest right 
hand. I shall never forget that dead gentleman who was my friend; 
and the tones of that prophetic farewell — for such it has sadly come 
to be — touched a chord in my heart and memory that will ever 
vibrate at the mention of his name." 

Near the beginning of the last year of his life, Mr. 
Brown had been asked to deliver an oration on the anni- 
versary of the occupation of Valley Forge. The follow- 
ing is a letter from Benson J. Lossing, Esq., who was 
consulted by him upon this historic theme : 

" The Ridge, Dover Plains, 
"Dutchess Co., N. Y., April 1, 1878. 

"My dear Sir, — Your esteemed favor of the 23d 
March reached my desk during my absence from home, 
and this is my excuse for seeming discourtesy in not 
promptly responding. 

" I really have no knowledge of facts concerning the 
history or incidents of Valley Forge other than what may 
be found in the books you have mentioned. I gathered 
all I could find, at the time, for my ' Field-Book of the 
Revolution,' and nothing new that seemed authentic has 
fallen in my way since. 

" I suppose the time chosen for your oration (June) im- 
plies that the central historic point in your discourse will 
be the departure of Washington from Valley Forge to 
pursue Clinton across New Jersey. I have prepared a 



VALLEF FORGE ORATION. 165 

paper for the June number of Harper''s 3fagazine on tlie 
battle of Monmouth. It will be issued about the mid- 
dle of May. I do not know that you will find much 
that is new in it. I made brief extracts from a diary, 
or rather an orderly book of a British officer, that was 
found on the field of Monmouth after the battle. The 
orderly book w^as deposited in the Historical Society 
of Pennsylvania by Mr. Buckelew. Through Professor 
Samuel Lock wood, of Freehold, New Jersey, I got per- 
mission to make use of it, and Mr. John J. , of the 

Historical Society of Pennsylvania, kindly sent it to me. 
At the request of Mr. Buckelew I returned it to Professor 
Lockwood, and I presume it has been sent back again to 
the Historical Society. Have you ' The Treason of Major- 
General Charles Lee,' by Dr. George H. Moore, late 
librarian of the New York Historical Society? It casts 
light upon the incident noted in my Field-Book of the 
hesitation of Lee in taking the oath of allegiance at Valley 
Forge, and of other incidents of his official career, to 
which I have alluded in the paper for ' Harper.' 

" I am sure the author of the oration at Burlington last 
December, and at the Centennial Celebration of the meet- 
ing of the First Continental Congress, needs no suggestions 
from me as to the treatment of any subject. I cannot tell 
you how much I have enjoyed the perusal of your Bur- 
lington oration, not only as an historical address, but as a 
literary composition. I am specially pleased with its pic- 
tures of the Quaker settlers in that region, for I am of 
Quaker descent on my mother's side, — Long Island settlers. 
The oration must have been specially pleasing to the old 
families of West Jersey, and particularly of Burlington, 
because of its wealth of information upon local topics and 
honored citizens. 



166 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

" Your kind avowal of your appreciation of my ' Field- 
Book of the Revolution' is very grateful to me, for it is an- 
other testimonial added to many, that the object I had in 
view in the peculiar construction of that work has been 
accomplished, namely, to induce young people to read and 
become acquainted with the period of our history which, 
as Paine said, ' tried men's souls.' It gratifies me to know 
that it turned the attention to that history of one so gifted, 
patriotic, and zealous as Henry Armitt Brown. I have 
placed your letter in the copy of the oration, which you 
kindly sent me, as a legacy for my children. 

" With sentiments of cordial esteem, 

" I am, dear sir, your sincere friend, 

" Benson J. Lossing." 

This oration at Valley Forge, delivered June 19, 1878, 
was the last of Mr. Brown's public efforts. He was, 
physically, in no sort of condition to undertake it. His 
system was run down by hard work, and it was only his 
resolute will that enabled him to go through the labor and 
excitement of the occasion. His brother, Frederick Brown, 
Esq., gives this brief account of the day so far as it relates 
to him personally : 

" Early on the morning of the 19th June, 1878, I 
met Hal at the Norristown Railroad depot, and we started 
for Valley Forge. For forty-eight hours the rain had 
poured down, but this morning was clear, though warm, 
and the rain had freshened the earth and made all nature 
rejoice. 

" Arriving at Norristown, we found a carriage waiting for 
us, and my brother enjoyed the drive of seven miles. It 
rather improved his condition. After driving down to see 
the review we took our lunch in the carriage, and then went 



VALLEY FORGE ORATION. 167 

to Mr. Todd's mansion, where we were most kindly received, 
and Hal had an hour's rest, and then to the tent. Three 
hours elapsed, and then Governor Hartranft introduced the 
orator of the day. 

" He commenced, as was his usual practice, very slowly 
and distinctly. His voice had not its usual power at first, 
but gradually cleared, and after holding the audience com- 
pletely in hand for some two hours, the last words were 
delivered with immense effect, and in perfect stillness. 
He turned, took three or four steps back to his chair, 
dropped into it, and almost fainted. Then cheer on cheer 
broke out, and a large number rushed forward to shake 
hands with him ; but the first who neared him noticed his 
condition, and one kind soul called out to his fellows, 
' Boys, this man is used up to-day. We'll wait till he is 
better to shake hands with him ;' and the crowd fell back. 

" Alas ! the day that he was better was never to arrive. 
After he recovered sufficiently we started for Norristown, 
and then took the cars again, two good friends of Hal's 
accompanying us. 

" When we reached his house it was 9.30 p.m., and he 
was ready for bed. After one day's rest he commenced 
writing the Monmouth Address, and finished it in bed on 
the 28th of June, — being taken with typhoid fever from 
which he never rallied, dying on the 21st of August, after 
fifty-eight days of steady fight between natural strength 
and science and the fever." 

No one ever engaged an audience under greater diffi- 
culties. In the first place his voice was impaired by a 
cold, and then there was the constant banging of the band, 
the cracking of board benches, the cries of venders of all 
kinds of things, and the absence of any effective police 
regulations. But, in spite of all, the interest was held for 



168 MEMOIR OF HENRY A R MITT BROWN. 

two hours unflagging, and without the slightest manifesta- 
tion of weariness, to the end. A detailed narrative of the 
scene and the oration has been written by a college friend. 
From this paper, which was originally prepared to be read 
before the Chicago Library Society, we give the following 
extract : 

"The day itself was singularly beautiful. The crowd 
began to gather from all the adjacent country early in the 
morning. They visited with reverent interest the little 
stone house on the immediate banks of the river where 
Washington was quartered ; dispersed themselves over the 
historic hills ; traced out the old earthworks on the upper 
ridges, which the constantly renewed growth of the woods 
has preserved in nearly their original character; pointed out 
to each other from some stand-point of advantage the places 
where, over the fair fields of grass and grain, other lines of 
defence, long since obliterated, had once been located, and 
looked down the old Gulf road, glistening now under the 
clear June sunlight, over which the little army marched 
exactly a century ago full of the spirit of victory. 

" Nothing could be finer than the sight, as toward mid- 
day the crowd, swelled now to large proportions, began to 
mass itself in and about the great tent, pitched by the 
side of wliat remained of an old redoubt that formed the 
key to the original line of defence. The most common- 
place soul among them seemed to catch some of the inspira- 
tion of the spot and its memories. 

" The horizon of those whose life had been most circum- 
scribed must have been a little widened with the thought 
of what had been done and suffered where they stood. 

" Before such an audience, filled with the subtle influence 
of the day, the occasion, the memories, and the visible his- 
tory about them, our young orator stepped forward to pro- 



VALLEV FORGE ORATION. 169 

nounce the oration which was on the M'hole the greatest, 
as it was the last work, of his short life. 

" Pale with the natural excitement of the occasion, and 
with what was known afterwards to be the unnatural ex- 
citement of encroaching disease, he stood before them, an 
ideal, youthful, manly presence. Gifted with a rich voice, 
using with consummate art the grace of oratory, of which 
he was a master, he held the vast crowd as by some en- 
chantment, while he reproduced the scenes of one hundred 
years ago, and made the hills and woods alive again with 
the patient heroic figure of the Continental soldier. Who 
that was present can forget how the crowd visibly thrilled, 
as he said, — 

" ' If my voice be feeble, we have but to look around. 
The hills that saw our fathers suffer look down on us ; the 
ground that thrilled beneath their feet we tread to-day ; 
their unmarked graves still lie in yonder field ; the breast- 
works which they built to shelter them surround us here ! 
Dumb witnesses of the heroic past, ye need no tongues ! 
Face to face with you, we see it all. This soft breeze 
changes to an icy blast ; these trees drop the glory of the 
summer, and the earth beneath our feet is wrapped in 
snow. Beside us is a village of log huts, — along that ridge 
smoulder the fires of a camp. The sun has sunk, the stars 
glitter in the inky sky, the camp is hushed, the fires are out, 
the night is still, all are in slumber except where a lamp 
glimmers in yonder cottage window, and a passing shadow 
shows a tall figure pacing to and fro. The cold silence is 
unbroken, save when on yonder ramparts, crunching the 
crisp snow with wounded feet, a ragged sentinel keeps 
watch for liberty.' 

" Having quickened their imagination with such pic- 
torial and heroic suggestions of the scene, and having 

12 



170 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

stimulated their patriotic enthusiasm and impulses with 
the natural contrast between the nation then and now, he 
brought his oration to a close with this solemn vision of 
the future : 

'' ' The age in which we live is but a link in the endless 
and eternal chain. Our lives are like the sands upon the 
shore ; our voices like the breath of this summer breeze 
that stirs the leaf for a moment and is forgotten. But in 
the impenetrable to-be the endless generations are advan- 
cing to take our places as we f\ilL For them, as for us, 
shall the earth roll on, and the seasons come and go, the 
snow-flakes fall, the flowers bloom, and the harvests be 
gathered in. For them, as for us, shall the sun, like the 
life of man, rise out of darkness in the morning and sink 
into darkness in the night. For them, as for us, shall the 
years march by in the sublime procession of the ages, and 
here, in this place of sacrifice, in this valley of the shadow 
of death, out of which the life of America arose regenerate 
and free, let us believe with an abiding faith that to them 
union will seem as dear and liberty as sweet and progress 
as glorious as they were to our fathers and are to you and 
me, and that the institutions that have made us happy, 
preserved by the virtue of our children, shall bless the re- 
motest generations of the time to come; and unto Him who 
holds in the hollow of His hand the fate of nations, and 
yet marks the sparrow's fall, let us lift up our hearts this 
day, and unto His eternal care commend ourselves, our 
children, and our country.' " 

From the delivery of this oration Mr. Brown went 
home, it might literally be said, to die. Low in strength, 
and using up all the physical energy he had in speaking, 
he contracted a fever at or about the time of the celebration 
of Valley Forge. The day itself was very hot, and the 



THE LAST DAYS. 171 

tent in which the speeches were made much hotter. He 
came home utterly exhausted ; nevertheless, within twenty- 
four hours of his return he commenced work on the Mon- 
mouth oration, which he finished while on his bed. This, 
his last literary production, will not be thought to be un- 
worthy of him, or to show any signs of failing strength. 
It is full of vigor and oratorical fire. It was not until the 
evening before the day appointed for the celebration at 
Monmouth, that lie finally consented to allow his family 
to telegraph that he could not perform the office. From 
that time the fever increased, and before many days its 
symptoms were unmistakably those of typhoid. For eight 
weeks there was a succession of hopes and fears. At one 
time, when strong confidence of his recovery was aroused, 
the good news gave joy to all good men throughout the 
country. It was touching to observe during this long 
period when he was struggling with the disease, how in- 
tense was the interest manifested everywhere and by all 
kinds of persons, and, above all, by the laboring class. 
Relatives and family friends would be waylaid at all hours 
of the day and night to be questioned by strangers who 
did not give their names — chiefly working-men — in regard 
to his condition. He had struck into human sympathy. 
At first, in his rarely occurring moments of delirium, his 
mind seemed to be taken up with the act of S])eaking. 
When fully himself again, he questioned his physicians as 
to the nature and duration of his disease. He wished to 
know precisely his condition. Just at the turning-point, 
at the end of three weeks, when the fever was almost gone, 
there came a terribly hot day, and he was again prostrated. 
After that he was conscious only at intervals of a day or 
two, but when thus himself, though suiFering much men- 
tally, all impatience had left him. He seemed to be com- 



172 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARM ITT BROWN. 

miming with thoughts of higher things. His religious 
nature was looking from the earthly away to God. He 
expected, indeed, to recover; and his recuperative powers 
were so great that it is no wonder his friends hoped to the 
last. In order to give him the benefit of a change of air, 
however slight, he was removed to his brother Frederick's 
house, a few streets off. He surprised those who were 
carrying him in an apparently unconscious state by giving 
a direction as to the way in a calm voice, showing that 
he knew perfectly what they were doing. Observing that 
most of the accustomed furniture of the room had been 
removed, he uttered a protest that so much trouble should 
have been taken on his account. His voice, whenever he 
spoke, remained strong, and his eye clear. 

That night, however, he began to sink, and he died at 
half-past eleven o'clock on Wednesday morning, August 
21, 1878, at the age of thirty-three years. 

The funeral, which took pla6e at his brother's residence, 
was largely attended by members of the legal profession. 
There was a brief service at the house, and then the re- 
mains were taken to the church of St. James, the following 
gentlemen acting as pall-bearers : Samuel Dickson, Wayne 
McVeagh, Daniel Dougherty, Henry Hazlehurst, Theo- 
dore Starr, E. Hunn Hanson, Samuel W. Hollingsworth, 
Victor Guillou, and John J. Ridgway. 

At the church religious services were conducted by the 
Rev. Dr. Morton, in conjunction with Drs. Claxton and 
Paddock and other clergymen. Dr. Morton spoke a few 
words in a feeling and appreciative way of the deceased. 
The interment was at Laurel Hill, at the gate of which 
cemetery the funeral procession was met by all the work- 
men employed upon the grounds, as their mark of respect 
for the dead. 



AS AN ORATOR. 173 

In a quiet spot, overlooking the great city at a distance 
with its toiling myriads, and the picturesque and beautiful 
Schuylkill River which flows close by beneath, life's work 
over, he peacefully rests. The life is ended, and the river 
still runs its ceaseless course. But could we look into 
those things that are unseen and eternal, the river would 
cease to run, and the life in ampler majesty and joy flow 
on, 

Henry Armitt Brown, though a man of uncommonly 
varied gifts, \vas a born orator. This was his highest 
manifestation of power by which he impressed himself on 
men. This, therefore, must be our chief word concerning 
him : and with some thouo-htful and loving words of others 
respecting his eloquence and his character we take leave 
of him. 

There can be no question that he exercised an extraordi- 
nary influence over audiences, even more than his published 
speeches would seem to bear out. The orator's power, mys- 
teriously connected with his personality, evades our attempt 
to perpetuate it. The voice, eye, gesture, the subtle magic 
of the presence, vanish. Music lingers in its characters, but 
eloquence, like the wind, never recedes nor stays. The charm 
perishes along with the speaker. That which came like a 
divine breath from the soul, departs with it. Slight as was 
his form, his speech " wielded the fierce democracy." With 
the exception of Patrick Henry, Henry Clay, Daniel Webster, 
and a few of our greatest orators, no speaker in the land ever 
had moments of completer tritimph than he over the minds 
and feelings of his hearers, — as at Carpenters' Hall, Valley 
Forge, and the occasions when he mastered rude and hos- 
tile assemblies by the spell of his eloquence. Wherein lay 
that spell ? Not in rant, clap-trap, and stormy" declamation. 



174 MEMOIR OF HENRY A R MITT BROWN. 

Not in a massive style like Briglit's oratory, nor in cumu- 
lative epithet like Sumner's, nor in " epigrammatic brilli- 
ancy" like Beaconsfield's, nor in broad philosophic discussion 
like Gladstone's, nor in the magnificent marshalling of fact 
and phrase like Macaulay's, nor in a coarse passionate vigor 
like O'Connell's. He did not have all forces combined, — 
who does? His speech was more like that of the great 
French orators, finished, classic, evenly sustained, without 
display of violence or undisciplined imagination. He had 
an elegance of style not incompatible with the highest 
vigor. He won by a forceful but steady pressure. He 
had three qualities of an orator, — a masterful will, personal 
magnetism, and an exquisitely finished elocution. 

His strong, masculine will, was itself a pure force in his 
oratory, that thus became, in Emerson's words, " the appro- 
jDriate organ of the highest personal energy." He was filled 
with his theme. He became a complete instrument of the 
M''ord he spoke. He poured himself out upon his speech 
with the ^vhole energy of his being. Yet the flow was 
regular and calm. There was intense feeling though under 
control, and tiiis communicated itself, as reserved power 
does, imperceptibly, to the audience. They felt its gentle 
but resistless sway. They felt that the man, body, soul, 
and spirit, while obedient to the higher intelligence inform- 
ing them, was in the utterance. Hence sympathy and mag- 
netism, — a fire that fused speaker and hearers in one. He 
took quiet but entire possession of his audience, and in 
apparently effortless ways often produced wonderful effects ; 
for while the speech was smoothly flowing, claiming no 
undue advantage over his hearers' minds, chording in and 
going along with their convictions, appealing to the best 
that was in them, with no attempt at eloquence, there was 
opportunity generated for ample power, and the divine 



AS AN ORATOR. 175 

afflatus sometimes came, lifting him and his licarers into 
higher regions of thought and feeling. The wind blew 
evenly along, but now and then the tempest filled the sails 
with a heaven-sent inspiration. 

His delivery was a constant charm. His voice was one 
of great flexibility and compass, and his articulation was 
singularly distinct, rounded, and musical. He had not 
particularly trained his voice by elocutionary methods (that 
was something he was always going to do), but it was a 
natural gift with which he could, as upon a lute, sound all 
the notes and stops of passion. While there was somewhat 
too much of rhythm and he was not sufficiently abrupt, in 
many points his speaking resembled the oratory of Grattan, 
— the same finished style and harmonious delivery, the same 
brilliant fancy and incisive wit. He had not yet been tried 
in the severe school of parliamentary debate, but his readi- 
ness in extempore speech, though developed late, showed 
what he could have done in Congress if he had lived to 
cope with others in the halls of national legislation. For, 
as we have said, he was a native orator. Everything was 
spontaneous. He had in liim the hidden resources of ora- 
torical genius. He was, above all, a political speaker. He 
delighted in those broad themes which concerned the wel- 
fare of the State and the administration of the laws. He 
had a manly intellect. As we have said, he grasped after 
power in order to control men in their relations as citizens 
to the best good of the State, M'hich, Dr. Arnold thought, 
was the highest ambition of a man. While, like George 
AVilliam Curtis and Wendell Phillips, he was fully able to 
apprehend the morality and greatness of these political ques- 
tions, he aimed, more than either of them, we think, at the 
methods of a true state-craft, and the actual establishment 
of a pure and noble government. He was not only a poli- 



176 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARM ITT BROWN. 

tician in tlieory but science. He did not speak for momentary 
impression, but as a means to a higher end. He sought to 
raise the political spirit of the nation. Thus, with grit and 
manhood to back him, exceptional purity of spirit, self-pos- 
session, vivid imagination, fine and ready popular humor, an 
expressive countenance and a noble gesture, and an exqui- 
sitely modulated voice, — when filled with the subject he was 
speaking upon, he was transformed far beyond what his 
slight frame and quiet manner would ever have given the 
expectation of his being, his words vibrated in men's souls, 
and they recognized in him the divine gift of the orator. 
Beyond all these, his character was one of manly modesty, 
calm in its equipose and strong, courageous to speak and 
act its honest purpose. 

" Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control, 
These three alone lead life to sovereign power." 

To say a word or two of his more familiar traits. If he 
allowed himself two or three weeks to prepare an oration, 
he would pass the first two in fruitless efforts to write what 
suited him, becoming more and more discouraged as each 
day passed; and, finally, when he had barely time to do the 
work, he would seem to strike a fresh vein, and would 
write almost steadily, with interruptions only for slight 
meals and sleep, until he had completed the whole. 

Sometimes he would finish the peroration, or other parts 
of the address, and then spend his time in putting them 
together satisfactorily, but he never did any real work — 
anything he could make use of — until very nearly the time 
appointed for the delivery. 

He always read in advance of his writing, and would 
search indefatigably in any direction for matter bearing on 
his subject ; he liked to read what he had collected to his 



FAMILIAR TRAITS. 177 

wife or to a friend, and their interest would stimulate him ; 
and, while talking it over, his mind would become more 
thoroughly aroused. The committing to memory never 
seemed to give him the least uneasiness, and one day usually 
sufficed for that, no matter how much matter there was. 
He thus filled his mind with the subject, and spoke, though 
from memory, with the inspiration of the theme. 

When he first began to be prominent in Philadelphia, 
unkind articles concerning him would be occasionally pub- 
lished in the papers ; for a time these annoyed and pained 
him, though he would say but little about it; afterward he 
schooled himself so as not to seem in the least affected by 
such notices, and would laugh when speaking of his former 
sensitiveness. He treated his critics with undiminished 
courtesy. But he was by nature very sensitive to such 
things, and Nvould be much grieved if he thought that those 
he cared for, particularly the members of his own family, 
misunderstood or were displeased at anything he did. Being 
unusually fair-minded and free from prejudice, he could 
not understand the reverse in others. 

Mr. Brown was not what some would have considered 
a religious man, though there was a strong religious ele- 
ment in his character. The actions of some men, done 
under the guise and in the name of religion, which he re- 
garded as Avrong and unworthy of the Christian name, had 
greatly shaken his faith in professions of belief. That his 
heart was right we have good reasons for knowing ; and 
if forming a lofty ideal of the requirements of life, and 
trying to live up to it as nearly as he could, counts for any- 
thing, he has not come short. That he was, in the latter 
part of his life, meditating upon a more positive attitude in 
regard to Christian faith, there is proof. 

Among his letters are found a great many from all kinds 



178 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

of persons, thanking him for all sorts of favors received. 
He was overrun by men out of employment and in diffi- 
culties, and he almost always made efforts to relieve them, 
in many cases obtaining for them relief or substantially 
benefiting them, so that his friends sometimes thought he 
Avas quite too sympathetic. 

He never thoroughly enjoyed anything alone ; if it were 
a beautiful landscape, fine music, or a notable occasion, he 
always needed some one to partake of his enjoyment to 
make it perfect. Fortunately, he had a most happy faculty 
of making friends wherever he went, inherited, he thought, 
from his father, and in that way he would often find con- 
genial companionship when on a journey, or absent from 
home, in other cities. But one thing that runs through 
all 'his correspondence and conversation was an intense love 
of home, and a desire to be there. His purest pleasures 
were away from the strifes of public life, and to be with 
those in whom he found sympathy of mind and rest for 
his spirit. 

After the news of his death, the letters of condolence 
which came pouring in bore on them all the proof of a 
spontaneous sympathy. From classmates, and men of his 
own age, the expressions were of the most poignant grief, 
as if they could not believe, or bear to believe, the sad 
intelligence. The staff of their honor seemed to have been 
broken. From political friends the lamentation appeared 
to be not less heartfelt. One of them, a conspicuous member 
of the Reform party, writes, xiugust 23 : 

" I am shocked at this announcement. All men who 
shared his high aims have lost in him a friend and champion. 
His wise counsel and perfect courage will be sorely missed, 
and this void will keep his memory fresh in hearts to which 



WORDS OF FRIENDS. 179 

his rare personal traits were unknown. My thoughts have 
run back to-clay to many and many an hour passed with 
him, never to be forgotten." 

G. S. Cannon, Esq., of Bordentown, New Jersey, sent to 
Frederick Brown, August 22, these few words, which, 
coming from a lawyer and an elderly man, are affecting : 

" Your fond anticipations have not been realized, and 
your noble, pure, gifted, and eloquent brother lies en- 
shrouded for the tomb. Thousands of hearts outside of 
your family will be touched and troubled by this great 
bereavement, and will not soon forget, but will again and 
again recall to their recollection, his gentleness, sweetness, 
and the wonderful endearments which were his." 

The following letter from Alfred C. Lambdin, Esq., to 
Frederick Brown, contains a reference to the Monmouth 
address : 

"I send you herewith the MS. just as I received it on 
the night of the Monmouth Celebration. I held it subject 
to your brother's orders, hoping that it might receive the 
revision he meant to give it, but it was not God's will. 

" I cannot tell you, and I do not need to tell you, how 
intensely we all feel the shadow of this great loss. I think 
that all his friends felt toward him as toward a brother, and 
therefore can enter in some degree into a brother's sorrow. 

" He was a man whom we must be thankful to have 
known, whose influence was invigorating, whose memory 
will be helpful." 

Dated from "Gambrel Cottage, Manchester-by-the-Sea, 
Mass., August 22, 1878," Mr. John R. Baker received 
these swift lines from James T. Fields, Esq. : 



180 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

" I have just read in a morning paper the sad intelli- 
gence. How strange it seems, and how hard to believe ! 

" After receiving yours of the 8th I felt easy, and was 
waiting day after day to learn of the dear one's recovery 
from his long illness. 

" What a mystery ! It seems like a vision that cannot 
be true. 

" My heart goes out to those left weeping behind, and 
I mingle my tears with theirs, grieving that I cannot do 
anything or say anything to help them. 

" God bless you and help you all in this unlooked-for 
loss! I had been looking forward to many happy meet- 
ings with dear Harry, for I loved him and had high hopes 
of his successful career as a patriotic and most talented 
citizen. 

" At a proper time give our love to your daughter and 
granddaughter, and tell them how saddened we both are 
by what we hear to-day. 

" There is no sunshine in my cottage here to-day, 
although the sun is shining on the shore." 

General George B. McClellan wrote to Mrs. Brown from 
Orange, New Jersey, August 23, as follows : 

" Not many months ago when my family were in sor- 
row, I received a most kind note from your husband, and 
little thought at the time that the occasion would so soon 
present itself for my writing to you. I do not seek to 
intrude upon your grief, but desire in briefest words to tell 
you how sincerely I and mine sympathize with you in 
your sad hour of trial, how cordially we esteemed and 
admired your husband, and how deeply we feel that the 
loss is not simply that of his family, but that the commu- 
nity in which he lived has reason to deplore the untimely 



WORDS OF FRIENDS. 181 

death of one whose past gave the most excellent promise 
for the future. 

" My family unite with me in sincere sympathy." 

A cherished friend of Harry's and of his family, Bishop 
Clark, of Rhode Island, expresses thus his sense of per- 
sonal loss in a letter dated August 26, addressed to Fred- 
erick Brown, Esq. : 

" I hardly know how to express my profound and earn- 
est sympathy with you, your mother, and all the household, 
in the sad calamity that has now fallen upon you. 

" I have thought that there was no man of his age in 
the land who showed a higher gift in certain departments 
than your brother. I have been anticipating for him a 
long and brilliant career. But tlie Almighty had some 
higher work for hitn to do in another field^ and so He took 
him. 

"The loss to the public is great, but no one can tell 
what a terrible void has been left in the family circle. 
Only time and the nearer prospect of meeting those who 
have gone before, in their new homes, can assuage such 
grief. 

" This bereavement seems to be very strange and inscru- 
table now, but by and by we shall see that your brother, 
after all, was not taken away prematurely. He may have 
been spared some great trials, and as he had ripened early, 
he was early transferred to a world where no further trials 
or disappointments can reach us." 

These words, from over the sea, are from Sir Charles 
Reed, M.P., dated September 2 : 

" I have had a note from Julia Lea this morning, and 
straightway I have had a long look at the lovely portrait 



182 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

you gave me in 1876. The sight of it intensified my 
grief when I imagined the face I saw, shrouded in sorrow 
for the loss of one who, though but slightly known by me, 
was greatly admired for what he was, and for the promise 
of what he was to be. How little we know ! At Childs's 
dinner-table he was the centre of interest, and full of viva- 
cious wisdom. He looked firm and strong, and I marked 
him as one of your country's foremost men, for he spoke 
of liberty and corruption as I like to hear the patriot 
speak, and we forgathered then in true sympathy. 

" In Paris and in London I tried in vain to see you 
both, and I heard of your terrible voyage and sent mes- 
sages. 

" In the midst of your great loss I will refrain from 
saying more. Human sympathy avails but little in the 
hour of such crushing sorrow, but it may please you to 
know that there are those who feel for you, and some who 
desire, from a distance, to bring their wreath of friendship 
and lay it on the tomb of Henry Armitt Brown." 

The poet Longfellow wrote the following note to a 
member of Mr. Brown's family, September 9, 1878 : 

" I thank you for counting me among those who sympa- 
thize with you in your great loss, and for sending me the 
photograph of Armitt Brown, and the various eulogies 
called forth by his death. 

'' I had a great personal regard for him, and a high 
opinion of his character and abilities. When such a man 
dies it is not only a private loss but a public loss, and such 
it is felt to be by the whole community. 

" I beg you to convey to Mrs. Brown my warmest and 
deepest sympathy, and to your own family my best regard 
and condolence." 



WORDS OF FRIENDS. 183 

Another letter from across the sea, dated Monnetier, 
Savoy, France, September 12, 1878, is from John Welsh, 
Esq., our recent minister to England, and is thus feelingly- 
expressed : 

" Here, in a recess in the mountains, with Lake Leman 
below me, whose waters are ever flowing onward to the 
ocean as our steps are moving towards eternity, and Mont 
Blanc above me, whose peaks rise toward heaven clothed 
in garments radiant with purity as resplendent as the hopes 
of the future which fill our hearts, I desire to express my 
sympathy for you in your affliction, an affliction so heavy 
that there is only one who can lighten it, and to Him 
I trust that you have been able to turn in humble sub- 
mission. 

" In common with all who knew him whom we mourn, 
I have looked with pride and pleasure on his rising pro- 
gress, marked by the manifestation of the purest principles, 
the manliest conduct, and the highest aspirations, and had 
assigned for him a future of great usefulness and honor. 

" It is otherwise, and he has left us. We mourn his 
loss. He was beloved. Your heart must be full of sad- 
ness, and yet what joy there must be mingled in it that 
you are the mother of such a son, one whose life was 
marked by so many virtues and whose death is so univer- 
sally mourned. 

" Pardon me for my intrusion, but I cannot withhold 
from you this feeble tribute to the memory of one who was 
possessed of my warmest regard, and the expression of my 
deepest sympathy for all those who are now suffering 
under the bereavement caused by the death of my friend, 
Henry Armitt Brown." 

We add but one more of these " words of friends," — 



184 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

from the venerable Judge John J. Pinkerton, dated West 
Cliester, March 31, 1879 : 

" My absence at the Supreme Court has prevented an 
earlier acknowledgment of your kindness in sending me 
the Valley Forge oration. 

" I am under special obligations to you for it, as I had 
already received from Harry all else that he had printed, 
and this only was needed to make my collection com- 
plete. 

" My relations with your brother were exceedingly cor- 
dial, and my aifection for him great. His death created a 
personal grief not easily put into words. To the State it 
was a loss hard to repair ; as a common friend wrote me 
about him, ' I cannot help feeling that our moral forces are 
diminished.' To all of us, who knew him, he was an ex- 
ample of the supreme value of noble conduct and high 
demeanor." 

The formal notices which succeed, are culled from a great 
number of similar expressions of public regard. In them 
there will be seen to be the same manifestation of an un- 
feigned sorrow for a great public loss, and a desire that the 
lesson of such a life might not all be lost. We print them, 
as we have done the letters which have gone before, because 
they show unconsciously, and better than we are able in 
any other way to bring out, the profound impression made 
on the community of the character of a geimine man. 
While eulogistic they have the stamp of thorough sin- 
cerity. 

The "In Memoriam" verses of Miss Caroline L. Mitchell, 
of Burlington, New Jersey, which were composed the very 
hour that the sad news reached her, and which have in 
them a heart-glow, merit the first place: 



PUBLIC NOTICES. 185 

" Only a short while since a voice sublime 
Told of the deeds of mighty men of old, 
Waking fresh echoes from the ancient time, 
Telling a story — never idly told — 

" Of the brave warriors and their deeds as brave ; 
Of wrong and suffering, sorrows sad, yet grand ; 
Of freedom conquered and the freemen's grave, 
Link'd with the deathless story of our land. 

" And they who listened felt their pulses thrill 
And joyed to follow on that clear-voiced call, 
For thousands hearkened, in a hush as still 
As that which follows on the thunder-fall. 

'* But now ! oh voice sublime, oh voice most true. 

Break through this silence which now seals your tone ; 
Tell those who know that honor is your due 

Of the fair life, — of death which you have known. 

" Tell us, oh voice sublime, — from out the light 
Which floods this silence, — why our feet are set 
To stumble lonely in this awful night. 
Where all things but our weeping we forget ; 

" Tell us why, for a time, upon the plane of life 
Your tones rang clear, in swift, responsive call ; 
And when death came, and, after solemn strife, 
Wrapped silently your joy and grace from all ; 

" Tell us from Paradise, in words of love, — 

The God we worship knows and shares our grief, — 
Oh, tell us of His cross ; that through His wounds, 
To our sad hearts, may come some sweet relief. 

" God keeps His own ! Then let His blessing fall 
On you — in death at rest — in measure large. 
Life loses and Death wins ! His bugle-call 

Warns the brave warriors of the coming charge. 
13 



186 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

" Peace be your portion, till the voice of God 

Calls on Ilis own to leave the grave and live, — 

Then, voice sublime, make answer, — while the ' rod 

And staff' of God 'support and comfort' give." 

New Rochelle, New York. 

Hardly less promptly appeared the following apprecia- 
tive article in the Philadelphia Evening Bulletin of August 
22, 1878 : 

" No sadder news has been chronicled for many a day 
than that which announced yesterday the death of Henry 
Armitt Brown. The terrible nature of the disease with 
which he wrestled so long made this catastrophe seem very 
probable ; but anticipation of the end has robbed it of none 
of its mournfulness now that it has come. It only remains 
for those who have to note the removal of this gifted young 
man from the places that have known him, to give expression 
to the sense of loss which is felt by every one who had an 
opportunity of estimating his character and his intellectual 
ability, and of observing the promise that the future had 
for him of high achievement and honorable fame. The 
language of eulogy too often is strained when the dead are 
spoken of; but here was a man for whom the warmest 
epithets of praise alone are fit, and who deserves^a kindlier 
epitaph than any that can be written for him. It was one 
of his best qualities that the praise which was heaped upon 
him during his life never ministered visibly to his pride. 
He died at thirty-three, after having won by sheer force of 
intellect and character such triumphs as few men in middle 
life can boast of; and yet he bore his honors meekly. His 
head was never turned by his successes. His manner was 
always suave, his courtesy to the humblest was never less 
refined than when he mingled with the greatest. If it 
happened that he could help some less fortunate man who 



PUBLIC NOTICES. 187 

struggled upon a pathway which he had climbed wath ease, 
there was always an extended hand and a word of cheer. 
He had too large a soul for flattery to hurt. He was far 
too great a man to permit the littleness of vanity to make 
him heedless of the obligations of his kinship with the 
lowliest of his fellows. 

" To most men who read of his death he was known only 
as the scholar and orator ; and none who ever heard him 
doubted the fairness of his claim to the distinction which 
came to him. His natural gifts were extraordinary ; but 
he used them well. He made so close approach to perfec- 
tion because he strove valiantly to reach a high ideal. He 
was a hard student, a toiler who realizes that the best con- 
summation follows ever with the greatest eifort. His style 
seemed the most fitting that could have been chosen for 
his purpose. He wove the fabric of his speeches with dain- 
tiest skill, accompanying the cogent argument with pictures 
w^hich were full of vivid power. Some of his descriptions 
of scenes that have come to us famous from the old time 
are elaborated so artfully, with so much picturesque detail, 
that the figures are rounded before the eye and crowned 
with a semblance of reality. The reader of his speeches 
feels his power to conjure up the people and the things of 
the past ; but the full value of his ability in this respect 
can be estimated alone by those who have heard him when 
he was his own interpreter. He was a great orator. If he 
had lived it is possible that he might have taken rank among 
the very greatest. There was a grandeur of method, a 
largeness of style, an excellence of gesture, and an exquisite 
intonation which enabled him to move an audience deeply. 
The unskilled who heard him marvelled at his power, but 
he numbered among the warmest of his admirers men who 
themselves had no mean skill in the art of eloquence. 



138 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

" But he was far more than a charming writer and a 
noble orator. He was a man who had high aims from his 
early youth. Not only did he covet for himself, at a time 
when most young men are pursuing pleasure, such distinc- 
tion as he attained, but he determined within his soul that 
he would strive for better things for his country. He 
loathed the corruption and trickery that have poisoned our 
politics, and one of the first aspirations of what may be 
called his public life was toward reform. Perhaps the 
method he preferred was not the wisest or surest to attain 
the desired end. But his wish was ardent and his effort was 
sincere. He never surrendered his hope of better things 
to come, or yielded his purpose to expend his energies in 
their behalf. He had the intensest scorn for those who play 
upon passion and prejudice to gain promotion in public life, 
and he hated the methods which enable the trickster and 
the demagogue to climb to the high places of the nation. 
If he had lived, a time surely would have been when the 
people, acting independently of partisan machinery, would 
have chosen him to speak for them in the national councils. 
And there were those who believed that the statesman of 
the better days to come might be such as he. He was the 
kind of a man who would have made the profession of 
politics worthy of the adoption of the pure and the wise, 
and would have shown to the country how there might be 
politicians who should be moved by high principles and 
lofty conceptions of patriotism and duty. It is nearly cer- 
tain that he looked forward to sucli a career ; certainly his 
friends believed that it awaited his ripened powers and the 
combination of events. No man more worthy to conduct 
such a reform, or better fitted to stand as the representative 
of a higher code of political morality, has ever in recent 
years commanded public attention in this city. 



PUBLIC NOTICES. 189 

"But these great possibilities are past. There is no 
future for him excepting in that world where all wrongs 
are righted, Avliere the best and the purest are always 
crowned, and where that which defiles and makes unclean 
has no abiding-place. The Divine hand that led him 
onward here toward noble things, and that appeared to be 
shaping him for a great and splendid destiny, has smitten 
him while his task seemed hardly yet begun, and the life 
that was so full of promise is ended in the grave. If we 
cannot fathom the mystery of such a dispensation, we can 
be glad that so much as was done in the brief span of this 
man's existence was done well ; and it must be a consola- 
tion to those to whom the bereavement brings greatest 
sorrow, that the life which has closed had no stain upon it, 
but that there remains among those who observed it a 
memory that will be forever fragrant." 

A special meeting of the Executive Committee of the 
Municipal Reform Association was held August 22 at 
the office of John J. Ridgway, Esq., Mr. P. Morris Perot 
presiding, and Mr. L. P. Ashmead acting as secretary. 
The following resolutions, presented by Mr. Henry C. Lea, 
were unanimously adopted : 

" Whereas^ Providence has seen fit to remove from among us our 
friend and associate, Henry Armitt Brovrn. 

" Resolved, That we deplore his loss as a matter not merely per- 
sonal to ourselves, but as a misfortune to the community at large, 
which can ill afford to spare one whose brilliant intellect, richly- 
cultured mind, lofty aims, and chivalrous courage were always at 
the service of the public, with a rare disregard of self. Spurning 
the baser arts of the politician, he was content to win his way by 
the force of his high gifts and purity of character, preferring that 
success should be delayed rather than obtain it by means inconsistent 
with the nicest sense of honor. Time alone was lacking to win for 



190 MEMOIR OF HEyRV ARMITT BROM'S. 

him the high phice that was his due iu the councils of the nation, 
and the career which is now cut short would have been a conspicu- 
ous example that mediocritv and unscrupulous self-seeking are not 
the surest rec[uisites for success in our public life. For what he was 
we mourn him ; for what he would have been we grieve for our city 
and our country. 

^'' JSesolced, That the officers of the Citizens' Municipal Reform 
Association be directed to convey these resolutions to the family of 
our late colleague, with the assurance of our deepest sympathy with 
them in their irreparable loss.'' 

The following is a report taken from the Philadtlphia 
Times of August 2G of a bar-meeting held August 24 : 

" Xever, probably, in the history of the Philadelphia 
bar has there been such an assemblage of the lawyei-s of 
this city as g-athered together on Saturday morniug in 
Room C of the Court of Common Pleas to do honor to 
the memory of their late associate. It was not the congre- 
gatiou of the friends and professional intimates of the de- 
ceased alone, nor a meeting held simply to comply with the 
etiquette of the Bar dissociation, but rather the clustering 
together of legal gentlemen of all degrees and stations to 
pay an earnest, heartfelt tribute to the memory of one who 
had endeared himself to all by his honor, his manliness, 
his culture, and his manifold accomplishments. 

" Long before the hour of meeting, eleven o'clock, the 
members of the bar entered the court-room, and with 
solemn countenances and bated breath quietly recounted 
reminiscences of the life of jNIr. Brown, and told and re- 
told instances of his many excellencies and good qualities. 
There seemed to be a feeling of sadness pervading all 
present, which fully betokened the love and admiration 
held for the young and gifted lawyer and orator who had 
died. 

"■ A thino; was noticed about this bar-meeting which has 



PUBLIC NOTICES. 191 

probably never, certainlj very seldom, ooeurred before, 
and that was the presence of many gentlemen outside of the 
profession, who had come to testify by that pre^enoe their 
respect for the object of the meeting. Leading' .is 

and bankers with whom Mr. Brown had been £^- 
in the Reform movement were there. Several cler^ 
and members of the medical profession were in attend- 
ance. Among these last none was more conspicuous than 
the tall form and fine head of the distinguished sur- 
geon. Professor Gross. He was aooompanied by a leading 
member of the Baltimore bar, his son-in-law, ]Mr. Ben- 
jamin F. Horwitz. The judges of the Common Pleas and 
Orphans' Court were there, — all who were in town, — 
Judges Peirce, Thayer, Biddle, Hare, Ashman, and Pen- 
rose, while Judge Sharswood, of the Supreme Court, came 
to preside and speak the first words. A few of the mem- 
bers of the bar who clustered around these gentlemen may 
be menrioned : George W. Biddle, Isaac Hazlehuist, W. 
Heyward Drayton, William B. !Mann, John K. Findlay 
and his partner Mr. Thomas, Morton P. Henry, Samuel 
A. Dickson, Wayne MacVeagh, George Tucker Bispham, 
Heniy Hazlehurst, Bichard L. Ashhursx, Daniel Dougherty, 
James H. Heverin, Samuel W. Pennypacker, John J. 
Ridgway, A, Haller Gross, J. Parker Xorris, 3klax Mcln- 
tyre, Charles W. Warwick, John R. Read, Henry C. 
Townsend, Pierce Archer, Jr., Thomas J. Ashton, Francis 
Brewster, Victor GniUoo, James Ljmd, Stissex Davis, 
Robert X. Willson, Samuel B. Hu'ey, Charles B. Mc- 
^ilichael. E. Hiirm Hanson, and Lewis Wain Smith. 

*• Judge Sharswood in taking the chair spoke but a few 
moments. He said : 

" ' My brethren of the bar and bench, I do not feel like 
saying anything to you of the cause of our assembling 



192 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

this morning, — the death of Henry Armitt Brown. To 
me it is one of the saddest occasions at which I have ever 
been j)resent. We are often called upon to express our 
regret at the death of men who have attained their three- 
score years and ten. On such occasions there has always 
been the consolation that a full sheaf has been gathered to 
the eternal garner. We looked upon a perfect arch, and 
were only called to lay a cap-stone upon it. Here it is dif- 
ferent. We have a broken column, of elegant proportions, 
promising to be a glorious structure, suddenly arrested, and 
we are only left to fancy what it might have been. We 
bow to a mysterious Providence, and all that the survivors 
can do is to kneel in submission to the will of Him who 
seeth the end from the beginning. He has done this, as 
all things else, in wisdom and love. I shall not under- 
take to anticipate anything regarding the life, character, 
and public services of our brother, and will leave that to 
those who knew him more intimately.' 

"At the conclusion of Judge Sharewood's address Samuel 
A. Dickson presented a set of resolutions, as annexed : 

" ' The members of the Philadelphia bar having received with 
profound regret the announcement of the death of Henry Armitt 
Brown, and being desirous of expressing their appreciation of his 
virtues and their sense of the loss that has fallen upon themselves 
and upon the community, have 

" ' Resolved, That in the death of Mr. Broven the profession has 
lost one of its most brilliant members, whose success in the field of 
eloquence has not only gained a high reputation for himself, but has 
added largelj'^ to the renown of the Philadelphia bar. 

" ' Resolved, That Mr. Brown's career has exhibited one of the 
most striking instances in the annals of the bar of the early and 
rapid attainment of high and honorable distinction. In less than 
ten short years he made himself one of the first orators of the coun- 
try, one of the foremost citizens of the community in which he lived, 
and one of the prominent figures to which all lovers of good govern- 



PUBLIC NOTICES. 193 

ment and unselfish patriotism instinctively turned for advice, en- 
couragement, and aid. 

" ' Resolved, That while it is true that Mr. Brown's eminence was 
chiefly gained by his labors outside of the immediate sphere of pro- 
fessional exertion, it cannot be doubted that the same high qualities 
would have brought success had circumstances and choice inclined 
him to give himself up to the practice of his profession. The leisure 
afforded him by inherited wealth was not spent in idleness nor sloth. 
He lived laborious days to fit himself for his work. His learning 
was wide and liberal, and his mind was stored with " the great 
thoughts and fine sayings of the great men of all ages;'' but the 
ripe culture gained from foreign travel and classical studies did not 
dim nor dull his love for his country nor her institutions. In all of 
his orations and addresses he never spoke for self nor thought of 
self, and it was this that lent the most irresistible charm to his 
oratory. Through all his words there shone the clear, brave spirit 
of the courageous and high-minded gentleman, who was pleading 
for the cause of good government, or seeking to revive the memories 
of the loftier and purer patriotism of the past. To those who will 
turn again to the orations delivered in Carpenters' Hall and at Val- 
ley Forge, it will not seem extravagant to apply to him his own 
eulogy upon the great orator of the Revolution: "Through all 
descending time his countrymen shall repeat his glowing words, and 
inspire in the hearts of men to be that love of liberty which filled 
his own." 

" ' Resolved, That we tender to the family of our departed friend 
the assurance of our profound sympathy, and that a committee of 
seven be appointed to communicate a copy of these resolutions.' 

" Daniel Dougherty, witli whom Mr. Brown studied 
law, seconded the resolutions at considerable length and 
with much feeling. He said : 

" ' The sad and solemn duty devolves on me, gentlemen 
of the bar, of formally announcing to you the demise of 
Henry Armitt Brown. Struck down by typhoid fever, 
he struggled for two months, alternately rallying and re- 
lapsing, until Wednesday last, when his brief yet bright 
career terminated on earth, to begin, I hope, an endless 



194 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARM ITT BROWN. 

home in heaven. The journals of the city have given 
full details of his birth, parentage, and education. As a 
man he was familiar to all of us. Philadelphians, not 
only at home but who are sojourning in different parts of 
our country and abroad, will learn this deplorable intelli- 
gence with sorrow deep and heartfelt. I knew him, Mr. 
Chairman, from his youth. I watched with affectionate 
pride the bright boy develop into the brilliant man, and 
looked forward with fond antici[)ations to see him one of 
America's illustrious citizens. He was the most conspicu- 
ous young man in Philadelphia, and the one most likely in 
the future to fill a large space in the general eye. Though 
not officially announced, it was well knoAvn that Secretary 
of State Evarts had offered him the position of Second 
Assistant Secretary. As a writer he was concise and elegant, 
adapting his style to the subject, light and airy if the theme 
were so ; severe and grave if the importance of the com- 
position demanded it. His speeches in his few important 
cases at the bar elicited encomiums from the bench and 
ranked him as a rising orator. His lectures, and his polit- 
ical and miscellaneous addresses, extended wide his popu- 
larity, and were earning for him a national reputation. 
His oration at Carpenters' Hall, in the effect its delivery 
had upon his hearers, and its glowing eloquence, mark it as, 
without a single exception, the most masterly effort called 
forth by our Centennial anniversaries.' 

" Speaking of Mr. Brown's earnest advocacy of munici- 
pal reform, Mr. Dougherty said : 

" ' The emoluments of office had no charm for him. He 
was without the weakness that attends ambition ; he would 
not stoop that he might rise; he would not court the 
schemers that, alas for our country, stand between the 
people and public honors. He neither could be flattered 



PUBLIC NOTICES. 195 

by the smiles nor bribed by the favors of those who have 
usurped the distribution of offices. He would not sacrifice 
his independence by shaping his opinions to suit the de- 
signs of partisans. He was conscientious in his convictions, 
and fearless and defiant in battling for the right. Over 
all his public and private traits there shone the serene 
beauty of the gentleman. Many years ago I heard his 
father say that it had been his aim to give his children a 
happy childhood. He did more, — he implanted in his sons 
the seeds of noble manhood. If Harry, as his intimates 
endearingly called him, had lived, he would have filled a 
lofty niche as one who joined to the possession of shining 
talents, sterling qualities that recall heroic days, and who 
dedicated all to truth, virtue, and patriotism. I dare not 
dwell on his home and his mother's home, both now deso- 
late. I cannot trust myself to speak of our more than 
friendship, and close by seconding the resolutions.' 

" Hon. Wayne MacVeagh next arose. He was so com- 
pletely overcome by his feelings that it was with difficulty 
that he could speak the few words he had to say in behalf 
of the memory of his dead friend. He said : 

" ' I cannot refrain from taking part in this meeting, 
and yet I cannot say anything satisfactory to the bench 
and the bar. Between Mr. Brown and myself existed the 
most intimate relations, and I am justified in saying that I 
knew him thoroughly. I rise to say only that of his beauty 
of character and patriotism the whole truth will never be 
told. A bold and ripe scholar and an orator and patriot 
who thought always of his country and not of himself, 
and a stainless gentleman, — all these he was. I can say 
no more of him. I loved him too dearly and I knew him 
too intimately. I am therefore only listening to his praise 
from the lips of others.' 



196 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

" Henry Hazleliurst, a playmate, schoolfellow, and life- 
long friend of Mr. Brown, told of his having been asso- 
ciated in his first case with him, and turning to the chairman, 
he continued : 

" ' I have often heard you, sir, speak of his distinguished 
success on that occasion before a judge who is now your 
own associate in the Supreme Court. It was not the formal 
and courteous recollection of counsel, but the wise and just 
appreciation of a man who promised to fill a place that was 
vacant at the bar. Had he lived, that promise would have 
been faithfully kept, and as a forensic orator Mr. Brown 
would have made it our pride to tell of his triumphs. But 
he did live to advocate the greatest of all causes, pure and 
just municipal administration, and at a time when every 
word he spoke brought encouragement and assurance, he 
won his highest honors. I know of no eulogy now so fit- 
ting to be spoken in this distinguished presence as was con- 
tained in the message which announced to me his death. 
The scrap of paper said, " Died at noon." In every sense 
he died with the freshness of morning upon him, without a 
disappointment, before envy had time to speak, and while 
every man's hand was stretched out; at home and among 
" troops of friends" he passed away. We must not call him 
dead. Let us say that "at mid -day, on the King's High- 
way, there met him an angel in the way." ' 

" President Judge Hare was the next speaker. 

" ' While this is no ordinary occasion,' he remarked, ' I 
cannot do more than touch upon its cause. Henry Armitt 
Brown was a natural-born orator, and possessed all the neces- 
sary gifts to persuade and sway his fellow-men. He was a 
representative man, and one of whom the city was jiroud. 
When he rose to speak his first utterances were received 
with pleasure, and regret followed when he closed.' 



PUBLIC NOTICES. 197 

'' His Honor rehearsed the attending circumstances of 
Mr. Brown's first public speech, and concluded with : 

" ' He had a noble purpose to serve the public and his 
fellows, and with his accomplishments what might he not 
have accomplished ?' 

" George T. Bispham followed in a brief speech, closing 
with the following tribute : 

" ' I never knew a man for whose friendship so many 
men were eager, or one whose friendship when gained was 
so valuable. His loss to the bar and his friends is irrepar- 
able.' 

" Samuel W. Pennypacker spoke as follows : 

" ' It was my fortune to have been nearer to Mr. Brown 
than perhaps any other of his friends among the young bar 
during the preparation of his last and probably his greatest 
work. After he had been invited to make the oration at 
Valley Forge, which he considered to be the most impor- 
tant of all the Pennsylvania celebrations, he came to me 
because of my acquaintance with the locality. Together, 
only four months ago, we examined the entrenchments 
there and rode to the Paoli and the Warren Tavern, and 
following the track of the British army, crossed the Schuyl- 
kill at Girdont Ford. Together, little more than two months 
ago, we read over the completed oration. The assistance I 
was able to give him was little indeed, but the opportunity 
it afforded me of getting a closer insight into his character 
I shall always cherish among the happiest memories of my 
life. The Valley Forge oration is beyond question the finest 
which the Centennial anniversaries called forth, and as an 
artistic production is a marvel. With patient industry and 
a determination born of enthusiasm he thoroughly mastered 
the subject, — topographically and historically. With clear 
insight he caught the true inspiration of the scenes of that 



198 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

dreary winter. A more beautiful picture than his contrast 
between the ragged Continentals upon the bleak hills and 
the royalists amid the luxury of the city could not be 
limned. And for two hours and a half the people, at the 
close of a wearisome day of exercises, stood up and listened. 
A very capable historical critic has said to me that there is 
no more that can be added to the story of Valley Forge. 
And hereafter, in the ages to come, when men look back 
with veneration towards the heroes who suffered and died 
there, the young orator, whose earnestness to do justice to 
their memories so sadly shortened his own career, cannot be 
forgotten. Surely some of their renewed glory belongs to 
him. The sorrow which I feel in his early death is partly 
a selfish grief, partly regret at his broken hopes, now for- 
ever ended here, but beyond all, the loss to my native State. 
We have many men who are capable and pure, but they 
have eaten of the lotos and the spear has dropped from 
their nerveless hands. With his strength and his ambition 
he could not have been kept from the national councils ; 
but he is dead, and the fruits we were promised we shall 
never gather.' 

" Judge Biddle recounted the circumstances of an appeal 
made by Mr. Brown before him in mitigation of a certain 
sentence : 

" ' I was not swayed in my judgment by the appeal,' 
said the judge, ' but I could not fail but recognize its 
beauty and pathos. A great distinctive characteristic of 
Mr. Brown was his manliness. He took his views and 
shaped his course from the earlier statesmen of the country, 
and if he had been spared he would have met many of the 
issues of the day.' 

" Judge Peirce followed. 

" He remarked : ' Mr. Brown had the courasce of his 



PUBLIC NOTICES. 199 

convictions, — a rare quality, — and was the steadfast oppo- 
nent of corruption and wrong. In the death of such a 
man the community has sustained a loss, but the example 
of his life is not lost, and, though dead, he yet should 
speak from the grave and move young men to fill the 
break left vacant, and this being done it cannot be said 
that he died in vain.' 

" John J. Ridgway closed the addresses of the day, re- 
counting the circumstances attending the illness of the 
deceased, and spoke eloquently of his manliness and purity 
of purpose. 

" The following despatch from Mr. McClure was read 
by Mr. Lewis Wain Smith : 

" ' MiNNEQUA, August 22. 

" ' James H. Heverin, — I cannot be present to join the 
members of the Philadelphia bar on Saturday in giving 
expression to the profound sense of bereavement that the 
untimely death of Henry Armitt Brown has created in 
the circle of his professional brethren. He will be lamented 
as the most gifted of all his associates, and he will long 
live in friendship's memories as one of the bravest, noblest, 
and best of men. 

" ' A. K. McClure.' 

" The meeting then adjourned." 

The subjoined brief piece came out in the Sunday 
Transcript : 

" Mr. Brown was a politician in the true sense of the 
term, and none the less so because he ignored the j)rimaries 
and sought only to enforce his views when the candidates 
were selected and were before the people for election or 
rejection. His oratory and his masterly command of the 



200 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

language enabled him to discuss issues and questions in 
terse and vigorous English, but he failed to recognize that 
higher duty of the citizen, — to attend the delegate elections. 
Again and again has Mr. Brown denounced in scathing 
phrases the supineness of the voters who allowed their 
delegates to be selected without their knowledge and with- 
out their sanction. But did he ever go down to the depths 
and seek to discover the true cause of all the political woes 
which he depicted in such glowing language? No. He 
was a dilettante. He preferred, like many others, to dis- 
cuss the evils above without reference to those below the 
surface, and took no active part in that department where 
delegates are made or elected and where candidates are 
selected." 

The following, under the heading " The Honor that 
Endures," from the Philadelphia Times, August 26, is in 
some sort a reply to the above : 

" The tributes of many of the partisan organs to the in- 
tegrity, attainments, and political efforts of the late Henry 
Armitt Brown must attract the attention of intelligent 
readers. He was of the class of resolute men against 
whose teachings in modern jjolitics the mere partisan organs 
were tuned to their steadiest pitcli, and the triumph of his 
dream of a purified political system was what they most 
adroitly and persistently antagonized, and what they most 
feared as the inevitable end of their mission. The journal 
that was ever to the front in the effort to prove that Mr. 
Brown was always doing the right thing at the wrong time 
and in the wrong way, and which has long been trained to 
the obedience that treated every appeal for reform as an 
affront to the party, now tells how the time might have 
come when Mr. Brown would have spoken for Philadelphia 
in Congress, and felicitates itself on the promise of such 



PUBLIC NOTICES. 201 

honors in store for the one for whom every good citizen 
mourns to-day. Doubtless the time would hiive come, but 
it would have been only when machine politicians and 
machine organs had perished from our contests. The Sun- 
day Transcript, with more candor, strikes the average dis- 
tinction between the faithful and eloquent reformer and 
the leaders he antagonized, as it explains what it regards 
as the failure of Mr. Brown as a politician by reminding 
us that he failed to attend the primary elections. Doubt- 
less Henry Arniitt Brown did not trouble himself to attend 
political primaries, and none could better explain why he 
so abstained than the shrewd and well-schooled leader in 
such contests who presides over the editorial columns of 
that journal. Mr. Brown was no novice in anything of 
which patient research, keen observation, and intelligent 
appreciation of men could advise him, and he well knew 
that a half-score of regular primary managers would carry 
any precinct at a primary conflict against five times their 
number of men of the faith of Mr. Brown, even if all of 
them voted solid for desired candidates. He was not a 
great man in the battles where chicanery and brute force 
were the implements of Avarfare, and therefore 'he failed 
to recognize that higher duty of the citizen, — to go to the 
delegate elections.' In that regard 'he was a dilettante,' 
because he knew no arts but those of honesty, manly effort, 
and unswerving devotion to the right. 

" Looking back over the local battles of Philadelphia 
during the last ten years, no one man has commanded such 
enduring tributes from his antagonists as has Henry Armitt 
Brown ; and those who hasten to judge his campaigns as 
failures in practical results are strangely insensible to the 
living witnesses and varied evidence about them. There 
has not been a great movement against official wrong and 

14 



202 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

for a better rule in city, State, and nation, that has not in- 
spired the matchless eloquence of the fallen champion of 
reform, and slowly but surely his efforts were ripening into 
fruition. Compare the authority of Pliiladelphia to-day, 
with the authority that defiantly ruled when he first braved 
power and resentment to demand fidelity and competency 
in public trust, and there can be none so blind as not to 
appreciate the high measure of practical success that crowned 
his brave and patriotic efforts. To the young men of the 
nation, and especially of his native city, the courage and 
struggles and success of this young man will stand out in 
singleness of grandeur as the example of a life that left his 
community and his country better than he found it. Others 
won honors which they denied to his conceded merits, but 
when they and their unseemly honors shall have reached 
generous forgetfulness, it will be remembered how, in the 
dark days of misrule, one voice, more eloquent than all 
others, gave silvered lining to the clouds, and made justice 
and integrity respected in the councils of our rulers." 

Omitting other notices from papers all over the coun- 
try, we give this letter, which appeared in the Nation of 
August 29 : 

" To THE Editor of the Nation. 

" Sir, — The death of Henry Armitt Brown, which this 
community so deeply deplores, is really a public calamity ; 
and, even while our grief is freshest and keenest, I cannot 
forbear from stating to the readers of the Nation some of 
the qualities which compelled us to regard him as a man 
who gave great promise of future usefulness. 

" He was a ripe scholar, not only in the classics, in his- 
tory, philosophy, and literature, but he also spoke and 



PUBLIC NOTICES. 203 

wrote modern languages with unusual accuracy and ele- 
gance. He possessed special aptitude for society, and was 
the centre of every social gathering of which he was a part 
by the charm of his conversation. He was a clear and 
forcible writer, using his brilliant rhetoric and his admira- 
ble gift of humor only when they were aids to the enforce- 
ment of his argument. He was entitled to be called, 
without any exaggeration, an accomplished orator. His 
judgment in political matters was so excellent that he could 
foresee and describe many of the grave misfortunes which 
would follow the attempt to consider as judicial the func- 
tions of the returning boards of Florida and Louisiana. 
His sense of honor was so delicate that he forbade his 
friends to solicit office for him, declaring that he could not 
enjoy it unless it were freely conferred, upon the ground of 
his fitness for it. 

" And above and beyond all these claims to our regard, 
the words which Mr. Burke wrote of his dead son exactly 
describe him, — ' He was made a public creature.' His 
guiding and controlling purpose was to try to make the 
government of his country jjurer and stronger and better 
in all ways than he found it. I need hardly add that he 
was the instinctive foe of all manner of baseness and cor- 
ruption in our jjolitics, or that he was as chivalric in utter- 
ing his convictions as he was conscientious in forming 
them. The simple truth is that he never had any trouble 
in choosing the right side of any political questions, for he 
never regarded it as a possible aid of his own ambition, but 
simply in its relation to the public welfare, and the causes 
he championed furnish the best evidence of the manner of 
man he was : municipal reform, honest money, civil ser- 
vice reform, revenue reform, the restoration of fraternal 
feelings between all sections of the country, and the use of 



204 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

the lessons of the Revolution for the elevation of the spirit 
of our public life ; for these great labors he was thoroughly 
equipped, and to them, if he had been spared to us, he 
would have devoted his life. 

" These are the reasons why we who knew and loved 
him feel sure that not only this city and State, but the 
whole country has suffered in his untimely death, for, un- 
fortunately, these other words of Mr. Burke are also appli- 
cable : ' At this exigent moment the loss of a finished man 
is not easily supplied.' 

"Wayne MacYeagh. 

" Philadelphia, August 28, 1878." 

From the proceedings of tlie Massachusetts Historical 
Society, at their meeting September 12, 1878, we make 
this extract : 

" The president (Hon. Robert C. Winthrop) then said : 

"'Before turning to other topics, I am unwilling to 
omit the opportunity of mentioning another loss to his- 
torical literature, which has occurred within a few weeks 
past. 

" ' I had made a memorandum, in my notes for the 
present meeting, to ask the concurrence of the council of 
our society in proposing the name of Henry Armitt Brown, 
of Philadelphia, as one of our corresponding members, and 
I have no reason to doubt that lie would have been nomi- 
nated to-day. 

" ' He will be remembered by many of us as the eloquent 
young Philadelphian who came on as a delegate to our 
Centennial Tea-Party Celebration, in December, 1873, and 
made an admirable address at Faneuil Hall on that oc- 
casion. In the following year he delivered a really bril- 
liant historical discourse in Carpenters' Hall, Philadelphia, 



PUBLIC NOTICES. 205 

on the one hundredth anniversary of the meeting of the 
old Congress of 1774, which deservedly attracted great 
attention. 

" ' In December last he delivered another historical ora- 
tion, of hardly inferior interest, at Burlington, New Jersey, 
in commemoration of the settlement of that place by the 
Quakers. More recently still, he had been engaged to 
deliver the orations on the Centennial Anniversary of Val- 
ley Forge, on the 19th of June last, and of the Battle of 
Monmouth, on the 29th of the same month. 

" ' As the result of the fulfilling of the first of these 
engagements, and preparing for the second, he was struck 
down with a fever, from which he did not recover. 

" ' He died on the 21st of August last, in the thirty- 
fourth year of his age. 

" ' Mr. Brown has always kindly sent me everything 
which he printed, and I have never failed to read whatever 
he sent ; and I know of no young man or old man, of his 
period, who has exhibited greater power or skill in work- 
ing up the historical materials which he labored with so 
much zeal and enthusiasm in collecting. He was an orator 
of no second class, and his sketches and illustrations of the 
scenes and events which he depicted were most felicitous 
and impressive. 

" ' Had his life and health been prolonged, he could 
hardly have failed to rise to great distinction ; and his death 
at so early an age, and after such signal evidences of his 
taste and talent for historical research and description, en- 
title him to be remembered in our records, though it be too 
late to inscribe his name on our rolls. 

" ' I am glad to observe a statement in the papers that 
his anniversary addresses are to be made up into a memo- 
rial volume.' " 



206 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

In his annual message, in January, 1879, Governor 
Hartranft made a graceful allusion to three Pennsylvanians 
who had died during the previous year, — H. A. Brown, 
Bayard Taylor, and Morton MeMichael. He said of the 
first of these : 

" The country has suffered the loss during the year of 
three distinguished Pennsylvanians. On the 21st day of 
August, in the thirty-fourth year of his age, Henry Armitt 
Brown died at Philadelphia. He belonged to public life 
only in the highest sense of simple citizenship, for he held 
no office, except the high position of a leader of men, and 
wielded no authority, except the noble influence of a pure 
and strong life. At the time of his death he had just com- 
pleted the masterly orations on Revolutionary events, upon 
which his reputation as a scholar and orator will eventually 
rest, after the personal recollections of him have faded into 
tradition." 

The following tribute is from the pen of Mr. George 
William Curtis : 

" The death of Henry Armitt Brown, of Philadelphia, 
is more than a sorrow to his friends : it is a loss to the 
country. He was a young man of a lofty sense of political 
duty and personal honor, of force and purity of character, 
admirably accomplished, holding sound views upon the 
most important public questions, and able to maintain them 
with unusual eloquence and skill. He had, no doubt, the 
power, also, of scorning the mean aspersions and insinua- 
tions, the lies and taunts and ribaldry, which every such 
man encounters from those whom he disturbs. He was, 
indeed, a type of the American who best understands the 
true value of American principles and institutions. 

" Mr. Brown did what every young American, and not 



PUBLIC NOTICES. 207 

least those of fortunate circumstances and of high educa- 
tion, ought to do. He made himself acquainted with 
public affairs, and he took an active interest in politics. 
It is not possible, of course, tliat every man in the country 
should devote his life, or even a great deal of time, to 
politics ; but he should have sufficient interest and knowl- 
edge and independence to exercise a positive and, in the true 
sense, conservative influence upon them. It is because of a 
general feeling that men like JNIr. Brown can do no good in 
politics that there are so few men like him in politics. If 
there really be no need of them in our system, then a 
republic has no need of its best citizens. But one man 
like him, earnest, intelligent, sagacious, unselfish, courage- 
ous, at once shows by what he does alone how much a 
hundred such men together might do. Demagogues appeal 
only to passion and prejudice, swaying the brute force of 
ignorance, and count upon a numerical majority. Their 
reasoning or their instinct is, that the mass of men will 
always be venal and ignorant, and therefore that if a leader 
M'ould have a majority, he nmst appeal to the lowest pas- 
sions. Men like Mr. Brown know that the real justifica- 
tion of a popular government is the fact that brute force is 
always subordinated to brain force, and that immoral brain 
force has no advantage even with ignorant people. No 
man who has ever faced a mob really feared it if he knew 
that he would be heard. The demagogue, of every kind 
and degree, therefore, tries to silence his oj)ponent by insult, 
or threat, or ridicule. He spurts dirty water, believing that 
a decent man will be unwilling to stand it. But if a man 
really means to do something, he will not heed blackguards. 
" Mr. Brown's abilities, tastes, and circumstances fitted him 
so well for public life that his death is the loss of a man who 
might have been of conspicuous service. It is said that a 



208 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

high official position was open to him had he cared for it. 
But he showed always that his concern was less for office 
than for a real influence. And it is always questionable in 
the case of such men whether they do not lose rather than 
gain influence by entering official life. There are obviously 
two ways of serving the public, either by official action or 
by criticising ])roperly the tone and methods of official 
action, and the time and opportunity necessary for the last 
are not always attainable with proper fidelity to the first. 
The last is one of tlie chief functions of the press, and in 
the degree that it is honestly performed the power and 
consideration of the press increase. It was in such sub- 
jects that Mr. Brown was interested, and for such debates 
that he was especially equipped. We had no personal 
acquaintance with him that would authorize us to speak of 
delightful qualities and charms of social intercourse known 
to us only by report. But we sincerely deplore in his death 
the loss of a brave and sincere American, while all who are 
striving, each in his own way, for 

' nobler modes of life, 
With sweeter manners, purer laws,' 

will surely find an inspiration in the remembrance of this 
young fellow-laborer." 

The thought suggested in the last extract, of the impor- 
tant role that the independent political worker may play, 
expresses one of the rare felicities of Mr. Brown's life. 
His life conclusively proved that in a free country a man 
of brains and of character does not need office ; and, above 
all, that he need not be an office-seeker, which trade is 
the curse of our land. He testified to the fact that the 
citizen is a power in himself, and that he requires no posi- 



CONCLUSION. 209 

tion from which to exert his power other than the popular 
system in which he is set, and which aifords him all the 
opportunity he Avants for self-development. 

The citizen is the highest object of the republic. He is 
in fact its noblest product. Men of brains and character 
are often greater powers as citizens than they would be as 
rulers. They are raised above the ordinary motives and 
temptations wdiich aSsail those in office, and yet, as men of 
intellectual breadth and moral earnestness, they cannot help 
studying politics, which is simply the science of men's living 
together in the State, or in those common relations that 
promote their best public and private well-being. From 
such citizens flow the ideas and influences which conserve, 
purify, and mould political institutions. If, with this genius 
for independent political thinking, there be combined a 
positive talent for political and public life, then we have 
the best possible material for making statesmen. 

But if the cultivated portion of the community — what 
the Germans call Die Gebildeten — by the very conditions 
of their culture are to be shut out of this public life, then 
it is time to ask to what is education tending, and what is 
the worth of our higher schools of learning? The progress 
of science itself does not answer this question. There are 
interests superior even to the advancement of knowledge. 
There is a wider interest, a larger and more generous con- 
ception of humanity, contained in the idea of the nation, 
than in the idea of the individual man, however highly 
developed by culture. The students in our universities 
should steadfastly resist the narrowing influence of their 
training in any specific field of knowledge, and should not 
permit themselves to be reared in that intellectual exclu- 
siveness by which this broader instinct of humanity, this 
grander idea of public spirit, becomes deadened. 



210 MEMOIR OF HENRY ARM ITT BROWN. 

Culture in any genuine field of knowledge ought to have 
a most liberalizing eifect upon the nature ; but, unless it be 
accompanied by other influences, we know that it is very apt 
to circumscribe rather than enlarge the sympathies ; and, in 
a democracy above all, an aristocracy of learning may be 
almost as offensive as an aristocracy of rank, or of wealth. 
But when this wealth of culture, when these rich gifts of 
knowledge, are meant to be used for the benefit of all, are 
pervaded by the idea of the j)ublic good, then study is lifted 
into a nobler plane of work ; then the higher spirit of 
humanity comes into it, and the old narrow forms are in- 
fused with new life and power. 

Young men in our American colleges should, we think, 
ever look forward to becoming public men, the avowed and 
recognized servants of the republic; and they should act 
upon the principle that from the very talents intrusted to 
them they are expected to become the strong stays and 
helpers of the commonwealth. By so doing they will fol- 
low in his footsteps whose life has been imperfectly set forth 
in these j)ages, and who fell on the " high places of the 
field," to make more room for them to follow. 



HISTORICAL ORATIONS. 



ORATION 



DELIVERED IN 



OAEPEISTTEES' HALL, 

PHILADELPHIA, 



THE ONE HUNDEEDTH ANNIVEESAEY 



OF THE MEETING OF 



THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 



"It is a tale brief and familiar to all; for the examples by which you may 
still be happy are to be found not abroad, men of Athens, but at home." 

Demosthenes, 3d Olvnthiac. 



I 



ORATION. 



We have come here to-day in obedience to that natural 
impulse which bids a people do honor to its past. We 
have assembled to commemorate a great event, — one of the 
most famous in our history. In the midst of prosperity 
and profound peace, in the presence of the honorable and 
honored Vice-President of the United States, of the chosen 
rulers of the people, of the members of the present and 
other Congresses — the successors of the statesmen of 1774 
— of the representatives of the learned professions, and of 
every department of human enterprise and industry and 
skill, we have gathered beneath this roof to celebrate, with 
reverent and appropriate services, the one hundredth anni- 
versary of the meeting of the First Continental Congress. 

It is a great privilege to be here, and we have to thank 
the Carpenters' Company for it.* The Carpenters' Com- 
pany of Philadelphia has always been a patriotic body. 
In the months which preceded the Revolution it freely 
offered its hall for the meetings of the people ; and besides 
the high honor of having entertained the Congress of 1774, 

* " The Carpenters' Company of the city and county of Philadel- 
phia" was founded in the year 1724, and has continued to the pres- 
ent moment in activity and vigor. It is made up entirely of Master 
Carpenters, who, at the time of their election, have been actively 
engaged in business, and numbers now ninety members. 

215 



216 I'HE CONGRESS OF 1774. 

it can point to its having sheltered the Committees of Safety 
and the Provincial Committee for a long time beneath this 
roof. The Carpenters' Company of Philadelphia is a very 
ancient body. It came into existence when George the 
First was king, when Benjamin Franklin was a printer's 
lad, and Samuel Johnson was a boy at school. It was 
founded fifty years before an American Congress met, and 
it is now half as old again as American independence. 
And more than this, it is a very honorable body. Its 
members have been counted among our best citizens for 
industry and character. Both this hall, in which the nation 
may be said to have been born, and that other, where in 
1776 its articles of apprenticeship were cancelled, are the 
monuments of its earlier skill, and there are few houses in 
this City of Homes in which its members have not had a 
hand. And, after all, how fitting does it seem that the hall 
of the Carpenters' Company should have been the scene of 
that event which we have assembled to commemorate ! The 
men of the First Congress were architects themselves ; the 
master-builders of a Republic founded on the equality of 
man — the highest types of which, in the two struggles 
through which it has had to pass, have been Benjamin 
Franklin, the mechanic, and the farmer's lad whose name 
was Abraham Lincoln. They represented among them- 
selves every rank of life — the lawyer, the merchant, the 
farmer, the mechanic — and they did more to dignify Labor 
and advance the cause of Humanity in the seven weeks 
during which they sat in this place than all the parliaments 
of the world have done in twice as many centuries. If 
there be anything good, if there be anything noble, if there 
be anything precious in the American Revolution, it is just 
this — that it secured for every man an equal chance. Far 
wiser than those who have attempted a similar work be- 



THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 217 

neath other skies, the men who achieved that Kevolution 
attacked no vested riglits, set up no false notions of equality, 
nor the oppression of the many for the tyranny of the few, 
nor did they break the chain that bound them to an hon- 
orable past. They sought rather to make Virtue and Intel- 
ligence the t.est of manhood — to strike down Prerogative 
and Privilege, and open the gates of happiness to all alike. 
And as I contemplate their glorious struggle at this dis- 
tance of time, and think of the national life which it has 
blessed us with — a century of which is surely a great 
achievement for any people* — I cannot but think it to 
have been a happy omen that it was inaugurated here. It 
is impossible, in the time which I can allow myself, to at- 
tempt a description of the causes of the Revolution. The 



* The histoi-ian Freeman, writing in 1862, says (History of Fed- 
eral Government, vol. i. p. 112): "At all events, the American 
Union has actually secured, for what is really a long period of time, 
a greater amount of combined peace and freedom than was ever 
before enjoyed by so large a portion of the earth's surface. There 
have been, and still are, vaster despotic empires, but never before 
has so large an inhabited territory remained for more than seventy 
years in the enjoyment at once of internal freedom and of exemption 
from the scourge of internal war." 

Professor Ilojspin, of Yale College, writes me of a conversation he 
had some years ago with Professor Karl von Raumer, of Berlin : " I 
asked him what was his opinion as to the perpetuity of republican 
institutions. lie said : ' Under certain conditions fulfilled, they 
would be more permanent than any other form. But,' said he, 
starting up from his chair with great energy, 'if they should fail, 
fifty years of American freedom would be worth a thousand years 
of Siberian despotism !' " 

A similar thought is expressed by Freeman in page 52 of the vol- 
ume above quoted: "The one century of Athenian greatness, from 
the expulsion of the Thirty Tyrants to the defeat of Aigospotamos, 
is worth millenniums of the life of Egypt or Assyria." 

15 



218 THE CONGRESS OF 1774- 

duty which I have to discharge is sufficiently difficult. I 
shall tax your patience, at any rate, I fear (for the trial is 
rather how little than how much to say), but the story 
must needs be long, and the occasion seems one of historic 
dignity. 

It was only a month ago that the inhabitants of a little 
island in i\\Q northern corner of the Atlantic Ocean met on 
their Law Mount and celebrated, with song and saga, 
their one thousandth anniversary. That hardy race, which 
counts among its achievements the firet discoveiy of this 
continent, has witnessed many memorable and strange 
events. Lo(!ked up in snow and ice, protected by the 
warring elements, it has watched the growth and decay of 
empires, the rise and fall of nations, the most wonderful 
changes in every quarter of the globe. But it has seen no 
spectacle more extraordinary than that which we commem- 
orate to-day, and in all the sterile pages of its thousand 
years of history it can point to no such achievements as fill 
up the first century of this younger nation. 

The tendency of the American colonies toward union 
had frequently shown itself before 1774. There was, of 
course, little sympathy at the outset between the Puritan 
of New England and the Virginian cavalier, the Roman 
Catholic of Maryland and the Pennsylvania Quaker. 
Each had, in times past, suffered at the other's hands, 
and the smart of their injuries w^as not soon forgotten. 
But Time, that great healer, came after a while to efface 
its sharpness, and when the third generation had grown up, 
little bitterness remained. For, after all, there is no sym- 
pathy like that which is begotten by common suffering. 
The trials of these men had been much the same. The 
spirit of persecution had driven forth all alike. Their 
ideas of liberty — narrow as they were at first — did not mate- 



THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 219 

rially differ, and their devotion to them had led all alike 
across the seas. They spoke the same language, inherited 
the same traditions, revered the same examples, worshipped 
the same God. Nor had the obstacles which they had 
overcome been different. Hcjit and cold, fire and sword, 
hunger and thirst — they had all experienced these. The 
Frenchman on the North and the Indian along the AVestern 
frontier had constantly threatened them with a common 
danger, and when the news of Braddock's defeat came 
down the slopes of the Alleghany Mountains it sent a 
thrill through hearts in Georgia and New Hampshire, as 
well as in Pennsylvania and Maryland. As early as the 
year 1754 the Indian troubles and the necessity for united 
action had led to the assembling of a convention or council 
at Albany, at which seven colonies were represented. The 
scheme for a perpetual union which the genius of Franklin 
had then devised was not successful, it is true, but the meet- 
ing under sucli circumstances awakened a strong desire for 
union among his countrymen; and when, in 1765, the times 
had changed, and the mother -country, victorious over 
France, turned her hand against her children, the sense of 
danger found expression in the convention which the Stamp 
Act brought together in New York. I pass without com- 
ment over the years which intervened between 1765 and 
1774. The Stamp Act had been repealed, but a succession 
of severer measures had brought things from bad to worse. 
Great Britain was in the zenith of her power. The colonies 
were thirteen in number, and contained about two millions 
and a half of inhabitants.* Let us, then, in the course of 
the hour which we are to spend together here, endeavor to 
go back in imagination to the summer of 1774. 

* Bancroft's History of the United States, vol. vii. p. 128. 



220 THE CONGRESS OF 1774- 

Here in Pbilatlelphia there have been feverish clays. 
The news of the determination of the ministry to shut up 
the port of Boston, followed, as it is soon after, by the 
attempt to do away with the ancient charter of Massachu- 
setts, and to remove to Great Britain the trial of offences 
committed in America, has aroused the patriotic resistance 
of the whole country. In every town and hamlet, from 
New Hampshire to the southern boundary of Georgia, bold 
protests are recorded by the people, and Boston is declared 
to be suffering in the common cause. The first day of 
June, when the Port Bill goes into effect, is everywhere 
kept as a day of fasting and humiliation. Flags are low- 
ered to half-mast, shops shut up, and the places of worsliip 
crowded with thoughtful men. Nine-tenths of the houses 
in Philadelphia are closed in mourning, and the famous 
bells of Christ Church are muffled in distress. Nor are 
the fellow-countrymen of the Bostonians content with this 
manifestation of their sympathy. From every part of the 
colonies come contributions for the suftering poor. Money, 
provisions, and articles of clothing pour in from every side. 
There is but one sentiment in the great majority of the 
people — a determination to support the men of Massaehii- 
setts to the end. They were not unconscious of the dangers 
of such a course. The disparity between the power of Great 
Britain and their own was far more apparent to them than 
it can ever be to us. They saw her the first power of the 
affe — fresh from the memorable wars in which she had 
destroyed the naval and colonial power of France. The 
air still rang with the cheers with which they had greeted 
her successive triumphs, each of which they had come to 
look upon as their own. Her armies had been victorious 
in every land, her fleets triumphant on the most distant 
seas, and whatever of spirit, of courage, and of endurance 



THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 221 

they micjht believe themselves to possess, they had inherited 
from her. "We have not fit men for the times," wrote 
one of the leadinej actors in tlie drama that was about to 
begin ; " we are deficient in genius, in education, in travel, 
in fortune, in everything. I feel unutterable anxiety."* 
But there is no thought of yielding in anybody's breast. 
" God grant us wisdom and fortitude," writes John Adams, 
in June, and he speaks the universal sentiment of his coun- 
trymen. " Should the opposition be suppressed, should this 
country submit, what infamy and ruin ! God forbid ! Death 
in any form is less terrible."t It was out of this conscious- 
ness of weakness that the strength of the Revolution grew. 
Had Massachusetts stood alone, had a feeling of strength 
seduced the colonies to remain divided, the end would have 
been far different. Singly, they would have offered but 
a slight resistance — together, they "were invincible. And 
the blind policy of the English king and ministry steadily 
fostered this sentiment of union. The closing of the port 
of Boston was intended by its authors to punish Massachu- 
setts alone, but the merchant of Charleston or New York 
saw in the act the attempt to exercise a power which might 
one day be directed against him, and the Pennsylvanian 
could have little feeling of security in submitting his 
valued institutions to the mercy of those who sought, by 
an act of Parliament, to sweep away the ancient charter of 
Massachusetts. The cause of one colony became the cause 
of all. The rights of Massachusetts were the rights of 
America. 

All through the spring and summer there has been earn- 
est consultation. Couriers are riding here and there with 
messages from the Committees of Correspondence which, 

* Works of John Adams, vol. ii. p. 338. f Ibid. 



222 THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 

thanks to Samuel Adams, have been established in every 
village. A constant interchange of counsels has soon be- 
gotten confidence; with better understanding has come a 
sense of strength. Each colony seems ready for her share 
of the responsibility, and no town, however feeble, feels 
alone. Boston is strengthened in her glorious martyrdom 
as her sister towns reach forth to clasp her shackled hands, 
and the cry goes forth, at last, for the assembling of a 
Continental Congress. " Permit me to suggest a general 
Congress of deputies from the several Houses of Assembly 
on the Continent,"* John Hancock says on the 4th of 
March, "as the most effectual method of establishing a 
union for the security of our rights and liberties." "A 
Congress, and then an assembly of States,"f cries Samuel 
Adams, in April, 1773. Here is a call for a general 
Congress in the newspaper which I hold in my hand — a 
journal published in Philadelphia on the 11th of October^ 
1773. " A Congress," suggest the Sons of Liberty of New 
York in the spring of the following year, and in all parts 
of the country the cry meets with a response. The first 
official call comes from Virginia, dated May 28, 1774. 
On the 20th of that month the Whigs of Philadelphia 
have met, to the number of three hundred, in the long 
room of the City Tavern on Second Street, and, after con- 
sultation, unanimously resolved that the governor be asked 
at once to call a meeting of the Assembly of this province, 
and a Committee of Correspondence be appointed to write 
to the men of Boston " that we consider them as suifering 
in the general cause ;" " that we truly feel for their unhappy 
situation ;" " that we recommend to them firmness, pru- 

* Bancroft's History of the United States, vol. vi. p. 508. 
t Ibid., p. 456. 



THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 223 

dence, and moderation ;" and that " we shall continue to 
evince our firm adherence to the cause of American lib- 
erty."* 

The messenger who bears this letter finds the country 
all alive. The Boston Committee sends southward a calm 
statement of the situation, and asks for general counsel and 
support. Rumor follows rumor as the days go by, and 
presently a courier comes riding down the dusty King's 
Highway from the North, and never draws rein till he 
reaches the Merchants' Coffee-House, w^here the patriots 
are assembled in committee. The intelligence he brings is 
stirring, for men come forth with flushed cheeks and spark- 
ling eyes. And soon it is on every lip. Behold, great 
news ! Bold Sam Adams has locked the Assembly door 
on the king's officers at Salem, and the General Court has 
named Philadelphia and the 1st of September as the place 
and time for the assembling of a Congress of deputies 
from all the colonies. Twelve hundred miles of coast is 
soon aflame. Nor is the enthusiasm confined to youth 
alone. Hopkins and Hawley in New England, and Gads- 
den in Carolina, are as full of fire as their younger breth- 
ren, and far away, in a corner of the British capital, a 
stout old gentleman in a suit of gray cloth, with spectacles 
on his nose, and a bright twinkle in his eye, is steadily 
preparing for the struggle which he — wise, far-sighted, 

* Pennsylvania Packet for June 6, 1774. The reply to the Bos- 
tonians was written by the Rev. Dr. William Smith, first provost of 
the University of Pennsylvania (who did service afterward as one of 
the Provincial Convention of 1774). An interesting account of this 
will be found on pages 41 and 42 of the valuable " Memoir of the 
Rev. William Smith, D.D. :" for a copy of which I am indebted to 
its author, Charles J. Stille, Esq., LL.D., the present provost of the 
University. 



224 THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 

great-soiiled Franklin — has long foreseen and hoped for. 
One by one the colonies choose delegates. Connecticut 
first, Massachusetts next, Maryland the third, Ncav Hamp- 
shire on the 21st of July, Pennsylvania on the 22d, and 
so on until all but Georgia have elected representatives. 
Yet still king and Parliament are deaf and blind, royal 
governors are writing : " JNIassachusetts stands alone ; there 
will be no Congress of the other colonies." Boston lies 
still, the shipping motionless in her harbor, the merchandise 
rotting on her Avharves ; and elsewhere, as of old, the dull 
routine of provincial life goes jogging on. The creaking 
stages lumber to and fro. Ships sail slowly up to town, 
or swing out into the stream waiting for a wind to take 
them out to sea. Men rise and go to work, eat, lie down 
and sleep. The sun looks doAvn on hot, deserted streets, 
and so the long days of summer pass until September 
comes. 

With the first days of the new month there is excite- 
ment among the Philadelphia Whigs. All through the 
week the delegates to Congress have been arriving. Yes- 
terday, Christopher Gadsden and Thomas Lynch, Esquires, 
landed at the wharf, having come by sea from Charleston, 
South Carolina ; to-day, Colonel Nathaniel Folsom and 
Major John Sullivan, the delegates from New Hampshire, 
ride into town.* The friends of liberty are busy. The 
great coach-and-fourf of John Dickinson rolls rapidly 
through the streets as he hastens to greet the Virginian 
gentlemen who have just arrived, and in the nortliern 
suburbs a company of horsemen has galloped out the old 

* Pennsylvania Packet for August 29, 1774. 

f "Mr. Dickinson, the farmer of Pennsylvania, came in his 
coach, with four beautiful horses, to Mr. Ward's lodgings to see 
us." — J. Adamses Works, vol. ii. p. oGO. 



THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 225 

King's Ivoad to welcome the delegates from Massachusetts, 
who have ai-rived at Frankford, with Sam Adams at their 
head.* With Saturday night they are all here, save those 
from North Carolina, who were not chosen till the 25th, 
but are on their way, 

Sunday comes — the last Sabbath of the old provincial 
days. The bells of Christ Church chime sweetly in the 
morning air, and her aisles are crowded beyond their wont ; 
but the solemn service glides along, as in other days, with 
its prayer for king and queen, so soon to be read for the 
last time within those walls ; and the thought, perhaps, 
never breaks the stillness of tlie Quakers' meeting-house 
that a thing has come to pass that will make their quiet 
town immortal. Then the long afternoon fades away, and 
the sun sinks down yonder over Valley Forge. 

The fifth day of September dawns at last. At ten in the 
morning the delegates assemble at the Merchants' CoflPee- 
House.f From that point they march on foot along the 

* J. Adams's Works, vol. ii. p. 357: "After dinner we stopped 
at Frankford, about five miles out of town. A number of carriages 
and gentlemen came out of Philadelphia to meet us. . . . We were 
introduced to all these gentlemen, and cordially welcomed to Phila- 
delphia. We then rode into the town, and, dirty, dusty, and fa- 
tigued as we were, we could not resist the importunity to go to the 
tavern, the most genteel one in America." The important conse- 
quences of this meeting at Frankford are set forth in a letter of 
Adams to T. Pickering in 1822, printed in a note on page 512 of the 
same volume. — Vide, also, vol. i. p. 151. 

t Then called the City Tavern. It stood on the west side of 
Second Street, above Walnut, at the corner of Gold Street (or Bank 
Alley), and had been recently opened by Daniel Smith. It was 
already the rendezvous of the Whigs, as the London Coffee-House 
(still standing), at Front and Market, had long been of the Tory 
party. — Vide Westcott's History of Philadelphia, Philadelphia Li- 
brary copy, vol. ii. p. 364. 



226 THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 

street until they reach the thresliold of this hall. And 
what a memorable procession ! The young men cluster 
around them as they pass, for these are their chosen leaders 
in the struggle that has come. The women peep at them, 
wonderingly, from the bowed windows of their low-roofed 
houses, little dreaming, perhaps, that these are the fathers 
of a republic for the sake of which their hearts are soon to 
be wrung and their homes made desolate. Here a royalist 
— " Tory" he is soon to be called — turns out for them to 
pass, scarcely attempting to hide the sneer that trembles on 
his lips, or some stern-browed Friend, a man of peace, his 
broad-brimmed hat set firmly on his head, goes by, with 
measured footsteps, on the other side. Yonder urchin, 
playing by the roadside, turns his head suddenly to stare at 
this stately company. Does he dream of the wonders he 
shall live to see? Men whose names his children shall 
revere through all descending generations have brushed by 
him while he played, and yet he knows them not. And so 
along the street, and down the narrow court, and up the 
broad steps the Congress takes its way. 

The place of meeting has been well chosen. Some of 
the Pennsylvanians would have preferred the State-House, 
but that is the seat of government, and the Assembly, 
which has adjourned, has made no provision for the meet- 
ing of Congress there. Here, too, have been held the 
town-meetings at which the people have protested against 
the acts of Parliament, and the Carpenters' Company, 
which owns the hall, is made up of the friends of liberty. 
It has offered its hall to the delegates, and the place seems 
fit. It is " a spacious hall," says one of them,* and above 

* John Adams: from whose Journal or Correspondence I have 
taken the personal descriptions in nearly every instance. 



i 



THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 227 

there is "a chamber, with an excellent library," "a con- 
venient chamber opposite to this, and a long entry where 
gentlemen may walk." The question is j)ut whether the 
gentlemen are satisfied, and passed in the affirmative ; the 
members are soon seated and the doors are shut. The 
silence is first broken by Mr. Lynch, of South Carolina. 
" There is a gentleman present," he says, " who has presided 
with great dignity over a very respectable society, and greatly 
to the advantage of America ;" and he " moves that the 
Honorable Peyton Randolph, Esquire, one of the delegates 
from Virginia, be appointed chairman." He doubts not it 
will be unanimous. It is so, and yonder " large, well- 
looking man," carefully dressed, with well-powdered wig 
and scarlet coat, rises and takes the chair.* The commis- 
sions of the delegates are then produced and read, after 
which Mr. Lynch nominates as secretary Mr. Charles 
Thomson, "a gentleman," he says, "of family, fortune, 
and character." And thereupon, with that singular wisdom 
which our early statesmen showed in their selection of men 
for all posts of responsibility, the Congress calls into his 
country's service that admirable man, " the Sam Adams of 
Philadelphia and the life of the cause of liberty ."f While 

* During the delivery of this address an original portrait of Mr. 
Randolph hung above the chair in which he sat during the sessions 
of Congress. 

t The Hon. Eli K. Price has kindly sent me the following interest- 
ing account of the manner in which this was made known to Mr. 
Thomson. The allusion in the address " reminded me," writes a 
lady of Mr. Price's family, Miss Rebecca Embree, " of the great 
simplicity of that appointment, as I have heard it related by Deborah 
Logan, wife of Dr. George Logan, of Stenton, viz. : ' Charles Thom- 
son had accompanied his wife on a bi'idal visit to Deborah Logan's 
mother, Mary Parker Norris, who resided on Chestnut Street above 
Fourth, where the custom-house now stands. Whilst there a mes- 



228 



THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 



preliminaries are being despatched, let us take a look at 
this company, for it is the most extraordinary assemblage 
America has ever seen. There are fifty delegates present, 
the representatives of eleven colonies. Georgia has had no 
election, the North Carolinians have not yet arrived, and 
John Dickinson, that " shadow, slender as a reed, and pale 
as ashes," that Pennsylvania farmer who has sown the seeds 
of empire, is not a member yet.* Directly in front, in a 
seat of prominence, sits Richard Henry Lee. His brilliant 
eye and Roman profile would make him a marked man in 
any company. One hand has been injured, and is wrapped, 
as you see, in a covering of black silk, but when he speaks 
his movements are so graceful and his voice so sweet that 
you forget the defect of gesture, for he is an orator — the 
greatest in America, perhaps, save only one. That tall 



senger arrived inquiring for Mr. Thomson, and informed him that 
he was wanted at Carpenters' Hall. Being introduced to the com- 
pany there assembled, he was requested to act as their secretary, 
which he accordingly did.' " 

* Justice is not done nowadays to the patriotic labors of John 
Dickinson. The effect of his " Farmer's Letters" in preparing the 
minds of his countrymen for resistance to Great Britain, can hardly 
be exaggerated, and to him they owed the phrase, " No taxation 
without representation." When the Congress of 1774 assembled, 
no man in the colonies was more prominent than the Farmer, and 
his influence upon its deliberations was very great. On page 13 of 
the valuable " Early History of the Falls of Schuylkill, etc., etc.," by 
Charles V. Hagner, Esq., will be found an interesting account, taken 
partly from the Pennsi/lvania Gazette of May 12, 1768, of the pre- 
sentation of a laudatory address to Mr. Dickinson by the Society of 
Fort St. Davids. Other similar addresses Avere sent to him from 
various parts of the colonies — one especially worthy of note being 
signed by Dr. Benjamin Church, John Hancock, Samuel Adams, 
Dr. Joseph Warren, and John Rowe, and enclosing resolutions 
adopted at a town-meeting held in Boston. 



THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 229 

man ^vith the swarthy face, and black unpowdered hair, is 
William Livingston of New Jersey — " no public speaker, 
but sensible and learned." Beside him, with his slender 
form bent forward, and his face lit with enthusiasm, sits 
his son-in-law, John Jay, soon to be famous. He is the 
youngest of the delegates, and yonder sits the oldest of 
them all. His form is bent, his thin locks fringing a fore- 
head bowed with age and honorable service, and his hands 
shake tremulously as he folds them in his lap. It is 
Stephen Hoj^kins, once Chief Justice of Rhode Island. 
Close by him is his colleague, Samuel Ward, and Sherman 
of Connecticut — that strong man whose name is to be 
made honorable by more than one generation. Johnson 
of Maryland is here, " that clear, cool head," and Paca, 
his colleague, "a wise deliberator." Bland of Virginia, 
is that learned-looking, "bookish man," beside "zealous, 
hot-headed" Edward Rutledge. The Pennsylvanians are 
grouped together at one side — Morton, Humphreys, 
Mifflin, Rhoads, Biddle, Ross, and Galloway, the Speaker 
of the Assembly. Bending forward to whisjicr in the 
latter's ear is Duane of New York — that sly-looking 
man, a little "squint-eyed" (John Adams has already 
written of him), "very sensible and very artful." That 
large-featured man, with the broad, open countenance, is 
William Hooper; that other, with the Roman nose, 
McKean of Delaware. Rodney, the latter's colleague, sits 
beside him, " the oddest-looking man in the world — tall, 
thin, pale, his face no bigger than a large apple, yet beam- 
ing with sense, and wit, and humor." Yonder is Chris- 
topher Gadsden, who has been preaching independence to 
South Carolina these ten years past. He it is who, roused 
by the report that the regulars have commenced to bombard 
Boston, proposes to march northward and defeat Gage at 



230 THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 

once, before his reinforcements can arrive ; and when some 
one timidly says that in the event of war the British will 
destroy the seaport towns, turns on the speaker, with this 
grand reply : " Our towns are built of brick and wood ; 
if they are burned down we can rebuild them ; but liberty 
once lost is gone forever." In all this famous company 
perhaps the men most noticed are the Massachusetts 
members. That colony has thus far taken the lead in the 
struggle with the mother-country. A British army is 
encamped upon her soil ; the gates of her chief town are 
shut ; against her people the full force of the resentment 
of king and Parliament is spent. Her sufferings called 
this Congress into being, and now lend sad prominence to 
her ambassadors. And of them surely Samuel Adams is 
the chief. What must be his emotions as he sits here to- 
day — he who "eats little, drinks little, and thinks much"* 
— that strong man whose undaunted spirit has led his 
countrymen up to the possibilities of this day? It is his 
plan of correspondence, adopted, after a hard struggle, in 
November, 1772, that first made feasible a union in the 
common defence. He called for union as early as April, 
1773. For that he had labored without ceasing and with- 
out end, now arousing the drooping spirits of less sanguine 
men, now repressing the enthusiasm of rash hearts, which 
threatened to bring on a crisis before the time was ripe, 
and all the while thundering against tyranny through the 
columns of the Boston Gazette. As he was ten years ago 
he is to-day, the master-spirit of the time — as cool, as 
watchful, as steadfast, now that the hour of his triumph is 
at hand, as when, in darker days, he took up the burden 

* Historical and Political Reflections on the Rise and Progress of 
the American Rebellion, by Joseph Galloway, London, 1780. 



THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 231 

James Otis could no longer bear. Beside him sits his 
younger kinsman, John Adams, a man after liis own heart 
— bold, fertile, resolute, an eloquent speaker, and a leader 
of men. But whose is yonder tall and manly form ? It 
is that of a man of forty years of age, in the prime of 
vigorous manhood. He has not spoken, for he is no 
orator, but there is a look of command in his broad face 
and firm-set mouth, that marks him among men, and seems 
to justify the deference with which his colleagues turn to 
speak with him. He has taken a back seat, as becomes 
one of his great modesty — for he is great even in that — 
but he is still the foremost man in all this company. This 
is he who has just made in the Virginia Convention that 
speech which Lynch of Carolina says is the most eloquent 
that ever was made : " I will raise a thousand men, subsist 
them at ray own expense, and march with them, at their 
head, for the relief of Boston." These were his words — 
and his name is Washington. Such was the Continental 
Congress assembled in Philadelphia. 

Its members were met by a serious difficulty at the very 
outset. The question at once arose. How should their votes 
be cast — by colonies, by interest, or by the poll? Some 
were for a vote by colonies; but the larger ones at once 
raised the important objection that it would be unjust to 
allow to a little colony the same weight as a large one. 
" A small colony," was the reply of Major Sullivan, of 
New Hampshire, " has its all at stake, as well as a large 
one." Virginia responded that the delegates from the Old 
Dominion, will never consent to waive her full representa- 
tion ; and one of them went so far as to intimate that if 
she were denied an influence in proportion to her size and 
numbers, she would never again be represented in such an 
assembly. On the other hand, it %vas confessed to be im- 



232 THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 

230ssible to determine the relative weight which should be 
assigned to each colony. There were no tables of popula- 
tion, of products, or of trade, nor had there been a common 
system in the choice of delegates. Each province had sent 
as many as it liked — Massachusetts four. South Carolina 
five, Virginia seven, Pennsylvania eight. In one case they 
had been chosen by a convention of the people, in another 
by a general election, in most by the Assembly of the 
province. There was no rule by which the members could 
be guided. Nor was this the only point of diiference 
among the delegates. On no one thing did they seem at 
first sight to agree. Some were for resting their rights on 
an historical basis — others upon the law of nature. These 
acknowledged the power of Great Britain to regulate trade 
— those denied her right to legislate for America at all. 
One would have omitted the Quebec Bill from the list of 
grievances — another held it to be of them all the very 
worst. Some were for paying an indemnity for the de- 
struction of the tea — others cried out that this were to 
yield the point at once. One was defiant, a second con- 
ciliatory ; Gadsden desired independence ; Washington 
believed that it was wished for by no thinking man. 

It was with a full sense of the diversity of these views, 
of the importance of a speedy decision, and of the danger 
of dissension, that the Congress reassembled i\\Q next 
morning. 

When the doors had been closed, and the preliminaries 
gone through with, it is related that an oppressive silence 
prevailed for a long time before any man spoke. No one 
seemed willing to take the lead. It was a season of great 
doubt and greater danger. Now, for the first time perhaps, 
when the excitement of the assembling had passed away, 
and reflection had come to calm men's minds, the members 



THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 233 

realized completely the importance of tlieir acts. Their 
countrymen watched and waited everywhere. In the most 
distant hamlet beyond the mountains, in the lonely cabin 
by the sea, eyes were turned to this place with anxious 
longing, and yonder, in the North, the brave town lay 
patient in her chains, resting her hopes for deliverance 
upon them. And not Boston only, nor Massachusetts, de- 
pended upon them. The fate of humauity for generations 
was to be affected by their acts. Perhaps in the stillness 
of this morning hour there came to some of them a vision 
of the time to come. Perhaps to him, on whose great 
heart was destined so long to lie the weight of all America, 
it was j)ermitted to look beyond the present hour, like that 
great leader of an earlier race when he stood silent, upon 
a peak in Moab, and overlooked the Promised Land. 
Like him, he was to be the chosen of his people. Like 
him, soldier, lawgiver, statesman. Like him, he was des- 
tined to lead his bretlu-en through the wilderness; and, 
happier than he, was to behold the fulfilment of his labor. 
Perhaps, as he sat here in the solemn stillness that fell 
upon this company, he may have seen, in imagination, the 
wonders of the century that is complete to-day. If he had 
spoken, might he not have said : I see a winter of trouble 
and distress, and then the smoke of cannon in the North. 
I see long years of suffering to be borne, our cities sacked, 
our fields laid waste, our hearths made desolate ; men 
trudging heavily through blood-stained snow, and wailing 
women refusing to be comforted. I see a time of danger 
and defeat, and then a day of victory. I see this peoj^le, 
virtuous and free, founding a government on the rights of 
man. I see that government grown strong, that people 
prosperous, pushing its way across a continent. I see these 
villages become wealthy cities; these colonies great States; 

16 



234 'I'HE CONGRESS OF 1774. 

the Union we are about to found, a power among the 
nations; and I know that future generations shall rise up 
and call us blessed. 

Such might have been his thoughts as these founders of 
an empire sat for a while silent, face to face. It was the 
stillness of the last hour of night before the morning 
breaks; it was the quiet which precedes the storm. 

Suddenly, in some part of this hall a man rose up. His 
form was tall and angular, and his short wig and coat of 
black gave him the appearance of a clergyman. His com- 
plexion was swarthy, his nose long and straight, his mouth 
large, but with a firm expression on the thin lips, and his 
forehead exceptionally high. The most remarkable feature 
of his face was a pair of deep-set eyes, of piercing brilliancy, 
changing so constantly with the emotions which they ex- 
pressed that none could tell the color of them. He began 
to speak in a hesitating manner, faltering through the 
opening sentences, as if fully convinced of the inability, 
which he expressed, to do justice to his theme. But pres- 
ently, as he reviewed the wrongs of the colonies through 
the past ten years, his cheek glowed and his eye flashed fire 
and his voice rang out rich and full, like a trumpet, thro"ugh 
this hall. He seemed not to speak like mortal man, thought 
one who heard him ten years before in the Virginia House 
of Burgesses ; and a recent essayist in a leading English 
Review has spoken of him as one of the greatest orators 
that ever lived.* There was no report made of his speech 
that day, but from the notes which John Adams kept of 
the debate, we may learn what line of argument he took. 
He spoke of the attacks made upon America by the king 
and ministry of Great Britain, counselled a union in the 

* Essays, by A. Ilayward, Esq., Q. C, 3d series, p. 50. 



THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 235 

general defence, and predicted tliat future generations would 
quote the proceedings of this Congress with applause. A 
step in advance of his time, as he had ever been, he went 
far beyond the spirit of the other delegates, who, with the 
exception of the Adamses and Gadsden, did not counsel or 
desire independence. " An entire new government must 
be founded," was his cry ; '' this is the first in a never- 
ending succession of Congresses," his prophecy. And 
gathering up, as it was the gift of his genius to do, the 
thought that was foremost in every mind about him, he 
spoke it in a single phrase : " British oppression has effaced 
the boundaries of the several colonies ; I am not a Vir- 
ginian, but an American." 

]My countrymen, we cannot exaggerate the debt we owe 
this man. The strength of his intellect, the fervor of his 
eloquence, the earnestness of his patriotism, and the courage 
of his heart placed him in the front rank of those early 
patriots, and he stands among them the model of a more 
than Roman virtue. His eloquence was one of the chief 
forces of the American Revolution — as necessary to that 
great cause as the intelligence of Franklin, the will of 
Samuel Adams, the pen of Thomas Jefferson, or the sword 
of Washington. In such times of a nation's trial there is 
always one voice which speaks for all. It echoes the spirit 
of the age — proud or defiant, glad or mournful, now raised 
in triumph, now lifted up in lamentation. Greece stood on 
the Bema with Demosthenes ; indignant Rome thundered 
against Catiline with the tongue of Cicero. The jjroud 
eloquence of Chatham rang out the triumphs of the Eng- 
lish name, and France stood still to hear her Mirabeau. 
Ireland herself pleaded for liberty when Henry Grattan 
spoke, and the voice of Patrick Henry was the voice of 
America, struggling to be free ! 



236 ^^^ CONGRESS OF 1774. 

Rest in peace, pure and patriotic heart ! Thy work is 
finished and thy fame secure. Dead for three-quarters of 
a century, thou art still speaking to the sons of men. 
Through all descending time thy countrymen shall repeat 
thy glowing words, and, as the pages of their greatest bard 
kept strong the virtue of the Grecian youth, so from the 
grave shalt thou, who " spoke as Homer wrote,"* inspire 
in the hearts of men to be, that love of liberty which filled 
thine own ! 

Great as were at first the differences of interest and 
opinion among the members of the Congress of 1774, there 
were none which their patriotic spirits could not reconcile. 
It was the salvation of the Americans that they had chosen 
for their counsellors men who believed, Avith Thomas Jef- 
ferson, that " the whole art of government consists in the 
art of being honest,"t and who were enthusiastic lovers of 
their country. No matter how strong had been their indi- 
vidual opinions, or how dear the separate interests involved, 
there seemed to these men no sacrifice too great to make 
for the common cause. As the debates progressed, differ- 
ent views were reconciled and pet theories sacrificed to the 
general judgment. Day after day they became more united 
and confidence increased. " This," wrote John Adams on 
the 17th of September, "was one of the happiest days of 
my life. In Congress we had noble sentiments and manly 
eloquence. This day convinced me that America will sup- 
port the Massachusetts or perish with her."| After a full 
and free discussion, in which the subject was considered in 
all its aspects, it was decided that each colony was entitled 

* Memoir of Thomas Jefferson, vol. i. p. 3. 

t Ibid., p. 115. 

X Journal of John Adams, vol. ii. p. 380. 



THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 237 

to a single vote. By this means the integrity of the prov- 
inces was preserved, and out of it grew the theory, so 
familiar to us, of the sovereignty of the State. It was 
next agreed u})on to rest the rights of the colonies on an 
historical basis. By this wise determination the appearance 
of a revolution was avoided, while the fact remained the 
same. Nor was there a sudden break in the long chain of 
the nation's history ; the change was gradual, not abrupt. 
The common law of England, under tlie benign influence 
of which tlie young colonies had grown up, remained un- 
changed, and when, in less than two years, the Declaration 
of Independence created a new government, the common- 
wealth quietly took tlie place of king. The revolution 
was then com])]ete ; the struggle which followed was merely 
to secure it ; and the American grew strong with the belief 
that it was his part to defend, not to attack — to preserve, 
not to destroy ; and that he was fighting over again on his 
own soil the battle for civil liberty which his forefathers 
had won in England more than a century before. We 
cannot too highly prize the wisdom which thus shaped the 
strugo-le. 

Having decided these points, the Congress agreed upon 
a declaration of rights. First, then, they named as natural 
rights the enjoyment of life, liberty, and fortune. They 
next claimed, as British subjects, to be bound by no law to 
which they had not consented by their chosen representa- 
tives (excepting such as might be mutually agreed upon 
as necessary for the regulation of trade). They denied to 
Parliament all power of taxation, and vested the right of 
legislation in their own Assemblies. The common law of 
England they declared to be their birthright, including the 
rights of a trial by a jury of the vicinage, of public meet- 
ings, and petition. They protested against the maintenance 



238 ^^^ CONGEESS OF 1774. 

in the colonies of standing armies Avithout their full con- 
sent, and against all legislation by councils depending on 
the Crown. Having thus proclaimed their rights, they 
calmly enumerated the various acts which had been passed 
in derogation of them. These were eleven in number, 
passed in as many years — the Sugar Act, the Stamp Act, 
the Tea Act, those which provided for the quartering of 
the troops, for the supersedure of the New York Legisla- 
ture, for the trial in Great Britain of offences committed in 
America, for the regulation of the government of Massa- 
chusetts, for the shutting of the port of Boston, and the last 
straw, known as the Quebec Bill. 

Their next care was to suggest the remedy. On the 
18th of October they adopted the articles of American 
Association, the signing of which (on the 20th) should be 
regarded as the commencement of the American Union. 
By its provisions, to which they individually and as a body 
solemnly agreed, they pledged the colonies to an entire 
commercial non-intercourse Avitli Great Britain, Ireland, 
the West Indies, and such North American provinces as did 
not join the Association, until the acts of which America 
complained were all repealed. In strong language they 
denounced the slave-trade, and agreed to hold non-inter- 
course with all who engaged therein. They urged upon 
their fellow-countrymen the duties of economy, frugality, 
and the development of their own resources ; directed the 
appointment of committees in every town and village to 
detect and punish all violators of the Association, and in- 
form each other from time to time of the condition of affairs; 
and bound themselves, finally, to carry out the provisions 
of the Association by the sacred ties of " virtue, honor, and 
love of country." 

Having thus declared their rights, and their fixed deter- 



THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 239 

mination to defend them, they sought to conciliate their 
English brethren. In one of the most remarkable state 
papers ever written, they called upon the people of Great 
Britain, in a firm but affectionate tone, to consider the cause 
for which America was contending as one in which the 
inhabitants of the whole empire were concerned, adroitly 
reminding them that the power which threatened the liber- 
ties of its American, might more easily destroy those of its 
Englisli, subjects. They rehearsed the history of their 
wrongs, and " demanded nothing but to be restored to the 
condition in which they were in 1763." Appealing at last 
to the justice of the British nation for a Parliament which 
should overthrow the "power of a wicked and corrupt 
ministry," they used these bold and noble words : " Permit 
us to be as free as yourselves, and we shall ever esteem a 
union with you to be our greatest glory and our greatest 
happiness ; we shall ever be ready to contribute all in our 
power to the welfare of the empire ; we shall consider your 
enemies as our enemies, your interests as our own. But if 
you are determined that your ministers shall sport wantonly 
with the rights of mankind, — if neither the voice of justice, 
the dictates of the law, tlie principles of the constitution, 
nor the suggestions of humanity can restrain your hands 
from shedding blood in such an impious cause — we must 
then tell you that we will never submit to be hewers of 
wood or drawers of water for any ministry or nation in the 
world." 

In an address to the people of Quebec they described the 
despotic tendency of the late change in their government 
effected by the Quebec Bill, which threatened to deprive 
them of the blessings to which they were entitled on be- 
coming English subjects, naming particularly the rights of 
representation, of trial by jury, of liberty of person and 



240 I'HE CONGRESS OF 1774. 

habeas corpus, of the tenure of land by easy rents instead 
of oppressive services, and especially that right so essential 
" to the advancement of truth, science, art, and morality," 
" to the diffusion of liberal sentiments" and " the promotion 
of union" — " the freedom of the press." " These are the 
rights," said they, " without which a people cannot be free 
and happy," and " which we are, with one mind, resolved 
never to resign but with our lives." In conclusion, they 
urged the Canadians to unite with their fellow-colonists 
below the St. Lawrence in the measures recommended for 
the common good. They also prepared letters to the 
people of St. John's, Nova Scotia, Georgia, and East and 
West Florida, who were not represented in this Congress, 
asking for their co-operation and suj^jjort. 

Nor was anything omitted by these men which could 
soften the hearts of their oppressors. Declining to petition 
Parliament, they had addressed themselves to the people, 
recognizing in them for the first time the sovereign power. 
They now decided to petition the king. In words both 
humble and respectful, they renewed their allegiance to his 
crown, detailed the injuries inflicted on them by his minis- 
ters, and besought his interference in their behalf. " We 
ask," they said, " but for peace, liberty, and safety. We 
wish not a diminution of the prerogative, nor do we solicit 
the grant of any new right in our favor. Your royal 
authority over us and our connection with Great Britain, 
we shall always carefully and zealously endeavor to sup- 
port and maintain." Solemnly professing that their '' coun- 
sels were influenced by no other motive than a dread of im- 
pending destruction," they earnestly besought their " Most 
Gracious Sovereign" " in the name of his faithful people 
in America," " for the honor of Almighty God," " for 
his own glory," " the interest of his family," and the good 



THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 241 

and welfare of his kingdom, to suffer not tlie most sacred 
" ties to be further violated" in the vain ho])e " of effects" 
which, even if secured, could " never compensate for the 
calamities through which they must be gained." 

There remained now for the Cono-ress but one thino: to 
do — to render to its countrymen an account of its steward- 
ship. In a long letter to their constituents, the delegates 
gave a summary of their proceedings, of the difficulties they 
had encountered, the opinions they had formed, the policy 
they had agreed to recommend, and, with a mournful 
prophecy of the trials that were at hand, urged their fellow- 
countrymen " to be in all respects prepared for every con- 
tingency." Such were, in brief, the memorable state papers 
issued by the First Continental Congress. And, terrible 
as were the dangers which seemed to threaten them from 
without, its members were to be subjected to a trial from 
within. On the 28tli of September, Joseph Galloway of 
Pennsylvania, submitted to the Congress his famous plan.* 
A man of talent and address, at one time high in the opin- 
ion and confidence of Franklin, he stood at the head of the 
Pennsylvania delegation. The Speaker of the House of 
Assembly, he had wielded great influence in the policy of 
the province. Cold, cautious, and at heart a thorough 
royalist, he determined, if possible, to nip the patriotic 
movement in the bud. Seconded by Duane of New York, 
he moved that the Congress should recommend the estab- 
lishment of a British and American government, to consist 
of a President-General, appointed by the king, and a Grand 
Council, to be chosen by the several Legislatures ; that the 
Council should have co-ordinate powers with the British 

* Vide Tucker's History, vol. i. p. Ill ; Sabine's American Loy- 
alists, vol. i. p. 309 ; John Adams's Works, vol. ii. p. 389. 



242 I'HE CONGRESS OF 1774. 

House of Commons, either body to originate a law, but the 
consent of both to be necessary to its passage ; the members 
of the Council to be chosen for three years, the President- 
General to hold office at the pleasure of the king. Here, 
then, was an ingenious trap in the very path of the infant 
nation. Some men, and good ones, too, fell into it. The 
project was earnestly supported by Duane. The younger 
Rutledge thought it "almost perfect," and it met with the 
warm approbation of the conservative Jay. But wiser men 
prevailed. The Virginian and Massachusetts members op- 
posed it earnestly. Samuel Adams saw in it the doom of 
all hope for liberty, and Henry condemned in every aspect 
the proposal to substitute for " a corrupt House of Com- 
mons" a "corruptible" legislature, and intrust the power 
of taxation to a body not elected directly by the people. 
His views were those of the majority, and the dangerous 
proposition met with a prompt defeat. The Suffolk County 
resolutions, adopted on the 9th of September, at Milton, 
Massachusetts, had reached Philadelphia and the Congress ;.;. 

on the 17th, and awakened in every breast the warmest 
admiration and sympathy. Resolutions were unanimously 
adopted, expressing these feelings in earnest language, rec- 
ommending to their brethren of Suffolk County " a perse- 
verance in the same firm and temperate conduct," and W^ 
urging upon the people of the other colonies the duty of 
contributing freely to the necessities of the Bostonians. 
There now came a still more touching appeal from ]\Iassa- 
chusetts. " The governor," it said, " was suifering the sol- 
diery to treat both town and country as declared enemies ;" 
the course- of trade was stopped; the administration of law 
obstructed ; a state of anarchy prevailed. Filled with the 
spirit which, in olden times, had led the Athenians to leave 
their city to the foe and make their ships their country, this 



THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 243 

gallant people promised to obey should the Congress advise 
them to "quit their town ;" but if it is judged, they added, 
that " by maintaining their ground they can better serve 
the public cause, they will not shrink from hardship and 
danger,"* Such an appeal as this could not have waited 
long for a worthy answer from the men of the First Amer- 
ican Congress. The letter was received upon October 6th. 
Two days later the official journal contains these words : 
" Upon motion it was resolved that this Congress approve 
the opposition of the inhabitants of the Massachusetts Bay 
to the execution of the late acts of Parliament ; and if the 
same shall be attempted to be carried into execution, all 
America ought to support them in their opposition." 
"This," says the historian, "is the measure which hardened 
George the Third to listen to no terms."t In vain con- 
ciliation and kind words ; in vain all assurances of affection 
and of loyalty. The men of Massachusetts are traitors to 
their king, and the Congress of all the colonies upholds 
them in rebellion. " Henceforth," says Bancroft, " con- 
ciliation became impossible." 

Having thus asserted their rights to the enjoyment of 
life, liberty, and fortune ; their resistance to taxation with- 
out representation ; their purpose to defend their ancient 
charters from assault ; having denounced the slave-trade in 

* The spirit of this people is reflected in a letter from Boston, 
printed in the Pennsylvania PacK-et for October 10, 1774, describing 
a conversation which the writer had with a fisherman. "I said: 
'Don't you think it time to submit, pay for the tea, and get the 
harbor opened?' 'Submit? No. It can never be time to become 
slaves. I have yet some pork and meal, and when they are gone I 
will eat clams ; and after we have dug up all the clam-banks, if the 
Congress will not let us fight, I will retreat to the woods; I am 
always sure of acorns !' " 

f Bancroft's History of the United States, vol. vii. p. 145. 



244 THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 

language which startled the world, and recognized, for the 
first time in history, the People as the source of Authority; 
having laid the firm foundations of a Union based upon 
Freedom and Equality — the First Congress passed out of 
existence on the 26tli of October, after a session of two 
and fifty days. Half a hundred men, born in a new 
country, bred amid trials and privations, chosen from every 
rank of life, untried in diplomacy, unskilled in letters, un- 
trained in statecraft, called suddenly together in a troubled 
time to advise a hitherto divided people, they had shown 
a tact, a judgment, a self-command, and a sincere love 
of country hardly to be found in the proudest annals of 
antiquity. And their countrymen were worthy of them. 
If the manner in which they had fulfilled their duties had 
been extraordinary, the spirit with which their counsels 
were received was still more remarkable. In every part 
of the country the recommendations of the Congress were 
obeyed as binding law. No despotic power in any period 
of history exercised over the minds and hearts of men a 
more complete control. The Articles of Association were 
signed by tens of thousands, the spirit of Union grew 
strong in every breast, and the Americans steadily prepared 
to meet the worst. The stirring influence of this example 
penetrated to the most distant lands. " The Congress," 
wrote Dr. Franklin from London in the following winter, 
"is in high favor here among the friends of liberty."* 
" For a long time," cried the eloquent Cliarles Botta, " no 
spectacle has been oifered to the attention of mankind of 
so powerful an interest as this of the present American 
Congress."t " It is impossible," says the Scotch writer, 

* Letter to Charles Thomson, 5th February, 1775 ; Watson's An- 
nals of Philadelphia, vol. i. p. 421, 
t Otis's Botta, vol. i. p. 128. 






THE CONGRESS OF 1774- 245 

Grahame, " to read of its transactions without the highest 
admiration."* "Tliere never was a body of delegates 
more faithful to the interests of their constituents," was 
the opinion of David Ramsay, the historian.f " From the 
moment of their first debates," De Tocqueville says, "Eu- 
rope was moved."! The judgment of John Adams de- 
clared them to be, " in point of abilities, virtues, and 
fortunes, the greatest men upon the continent. "§ Charles 
Thomson, in the evening of his well-spent life, pronounced 
them " the purest and ablest patriots he had ever known ;"|| 
and, in the very face of king and Parliament, the illustrious 
Chatham spoke of them the well-known words : " I must 
avow and declare that in all my reading of history — and 
it has been my favorite study ; I have read Thucydides 
and admired the master states of the world — that for 
solidity of reasoning, force of sagacity, and wisdom of con- 
clusion, under such a complication of circumstances, no 
nation or body of men can stand in preference to the Gen- 
eral Congress assembled in Philadelphia."T[ Long years 
have passed, and there have been many changes in the 
governments of men. The century which has elapsed has 
been crowded with great events, but the calm judgment of 
posterity has confirmed that opinion, and mankind has not 

* History of tbe United States, by James Grahame, LL.D., vol. 
ii. p. 496. 

t History of the American Revolution, by David Ramsay, M.D., 
vol. i. p. 174. 

J La Democratie en Am6rique, by Alexis de Tocqueville, vol. iii. 
p. 182. 

I John Adams's Letters to his Wife, vol. i. p. 21. 

II Field-Book of the Revolution, by B. J. Lossing, vol. ii. p. 60, 
note. 

T[ Speech in Favor of the Removal of Troops from Boston, Jan- 
uary 20, 1775. 



246 ^^^ CONGRESS OF 1774. 

ceased to admire the spectacle which was once enacted here. 
" But that you may be more earnest in the defence of your 
country," cried the great Roman orator, speaking in a vision 
with the tongue of Scipio, " know from me that a certain 
place in heaven is assigned to all who have preserved, or 
assisted, or improved their country, where they are to enjoy 
an endless duration of happiness. For there is nothing 
which takes place on earth more acceptable to the Supreme 
Deity, Avho governs all this world, than those councils and 
assemblies of men, bound together by. law, which are termed 
states; the founders and preservers of these come from 
heaven, and thither do they return."* The founders and 
preservers of this Union have vanished from the earth, 
those true lovers of their country have long since been 
consigned into her keeping, but their memory clings 
around this place, and hath hallowed it for evermore. 
Here shall men come as to a sanctuary. Here shall they 
gather with each returning anniversary, and as the story 
of these lives falls from the lips of him who shall then 
stand Avhere I stand to-day, their souls shall be stirred 
within them and their hearts be lifted up, and none shall 
despair of the Republic while she can find among her 
children the courage, the wisdom, the eloquence, the self- 
sacrifice, the lofty patriotism, and the spotless honor of 
those who assembled in this hall an hundred years ago. 

The conditions of life are always changing, and the 
experience of the fathers is rarely the experience of the 
sons. The temptations which are trying us are not the 
temptations which beset their footsteps, nor the dangers 
which threaten our pathway the dangers which surrounded 
them. These men were few in number, we are many. 

* Cicero, De Ke Publica, lib. vi. ; Somnium Scipionis, ^ iii. 



THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 247 

They were poor, but we are rich. They were weak, but 
we are strong. What is it, countrymen, that we need to- 
day ? Wealth ? Behold it in your hands. Power ? God 
hath given it you. Liberty ? It is your birthright. Peace? 
It dwells among you. You have a government founded 
in the hearts of men, built by the people for the common 
good. You have a land flowing with milk and honey; 
your homes are happy, your workshops busy, your barns 
are full. The school, the railway, the telegraph, the print- 
ing-press have welded you together into one. Descend 
those mines that honeycomb the hills ! Behold that com- 
merce whitening every sea ! Stand by your gates and see 
that multitude pour through them from the corners of the 
earth, grafting the qualities of older stocks upon one stem, 
mingling the blood of many races in a common stream, 
and swelling the rich volume of our English speech with 
varied music from an hundred tongues. You have a long 
and glorious history, a past glittering with heroic deeds, an 
ancestry full of lofty and imperishable examples. You 
have passed through danger, endured privation, been 
acquainted with sorrow, been tried by suffering. You 
have journeyed in safety through the wilderness and 
crossed in triumph the Red Sea of civil strife, and the 
foot of Him who led you hath not faltered nor the light 
of His countenance been turned away ! It is a question 
for us now, not of the founding of a new government, but 
of the preservation of one already old ; not of the forma- 
tion of an independent power, but of the purification of a 
nation's life ; not of the conquest of a foreign foe, but of 
the subjection of ourselves. The capacity of man to rule 
himself is to be proven in the days to come — not by the 
greatness of his wealth, not by his valor in the field, not 
by the extent of his dominion, not by the splendor of his 



248 THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 

genius. The dangers of to-day come from within. The 
worship of self, the love of power, the lust of gold, the 
weakening of faith, the decay of public virtue, the lack of 
private worth — these are the perils which threaten our 
future; these are the enemies we have to fear; these are 
the traitors which infest the camp ; and the danger was far 
less when Catiline knocked with his army at the gates of 
Rome than when he sat smiling in the Senate House. We 
see them daily face to face — in the walk of virtue, in the 
road to wealth, in the path to honor, on the Avay to happi- 
ness. There is no peace between them and our safety. 
Nor can we avoid them and turn back. It is not enough 
to rest upon the past. No man or nation can stand still. 
We must mount upward or go down. We must grow worse 
or better. It is the Eternal Law — we cannot change it. 
Nor are we only concerned in what we do. This govern- 
ment, which our ancestors have built, has been " a refuge 
for the oppressed of every race and clime," where they 
have gathered for a century. The fugitive of earlier times 
knew no such shelter among the homes of men. Cold, 
naked, bleeding, there was no safety for him save at the 
altars of imagined gods. I have seen one of the most 
famous of those ancient sanctuaries. On a bright day in 
spring-time I looked out over acres of ruin. Beside me 
the blue sea plashed upon a beach strewn with broken 
marble. That sacred floor, polished with the penitential 
knees of centuries, was half hidden with heaps of rubbish 
and giant weeds. The fox had his den among the stones, 
and the fowl of the air her nest upon the capitals. No 
sound disturbed them in their solitude, save sometimes the 
tread of an adventurous stranger, or the stealthy footfall 
of the wild beasts and wilder men that crept down out of 
the surrounding hills under cover of the night. The god 



THE CONGRESS OF 1774. 249 

had vanished, his seat was desolate, the oracle was dumb. 
Far different was the temple which our fathers builded, 
and " builded better than they knew." The blood of mar- 
tyrs was spilled on its foundations, and a suffering people 
raised its walls with prayer. Temple and fortress, it still 
stands secure, and the smile of Providence gilds plinth, 
architrave, and column. Greed is alone the Tarpeia that 
can betray it, and vice the only Samson that can pull it 
down. It is the Home of Liberty, as boundless as a con- 
tinent, "as broad and general as the casing air;" a "temple 
not made with hands ;" a sanctuary that shall not fall, but 
stand on forever, founded in eternal truth ! 

My countrymen : the moments are quickly passing, and 
we stiind like some traveller upon a lofty crag that separates 
two boundless seas. 

The century that is closing is complete. " The past," 
said your great statesman, " is secure." It is finished, and 
beyond our reach. The hand of detraction cannot dim its 
glories nor the tears of repentance wipe away its stains. 
Its good and evil, its joy and sorrow, its truth and false- 
hood, its honor and its shame, we cannot touch. Sigh for 
thera, blush for them, w^eep for them, if we will ; we can- 
not change them now. We might have done so once, but 
we cannot now. The old century is dying, and they are 
to be buried with him ; his history is finished, and they 
will stand upon his roll forever. 

The century that is opening is all our own. The years 
that lie before us are a virgin page. We can inscribe it 
as we will. The future of our country rests upon us — the 
happiness of posterity depends on us. The fate of humanity 
may be in our hands. That pleading voice, choked with 
the sobs of ages, which has so often spoken unto ears of 
stone, is lifted up to us. It asks us to be brave, benevolent, 

17 






250 I'HE CONGRESS OF 1774. 

consistent, true to the teachings of our history — proving 
" divine descent by worth divine." It asks us to be virtu- 
ous, building uj) public virtue upon private worth ; seeking 
that righteousness which exalteth nations. It asks us to 
be patriotic — loving our country before all other things; 
her happiness our happiness, her honor ours, her fame our 
own. It asks us in the name of Justice, in the name of 
Charity, in the name of Freedom, in the name of God ! 

My countrymen : this anniversary has gone by forever, 
and my task is done. While I have spoken the hour has 
passed from us ; the hand lias moved upon the dial, and 
the Old Century is dead. The American Union hath en- 
dured an hundred years ! Here, on this threshold of the 
future, the voice of humanity shall not plead to us in vain. 
There shall be darkness in the days to come ; Danger for 
our Courage ; Temptation for our Virtue ; Doubt for our 
Faith ; Suffering for our Fortitude. A thousand shall fall 
before us and tens of thousands at our right hand. The 
years shall pass beneath our feet, and century follow cen- 
tury in quick succession. The generations of men shall 
come and go ; the greatness of Yesterday shall be forgotten 
To-day, and the glories of this Noon shall vanish before 
To-morrow's sun ; but America shall not j)erish, but endure, 
while the spirit of our fathers animates their sons ! 



''THE SETTLEMENT OF BUELINGT N." 



AN ORATION 



Delivered in that City December 6, 1S77, 



IN COMMEMORATION OF 



THE TWO HUNDREDTH ANNIVERSARY 



OF ITS SETTLEMENT 



BY THE PASSENGERS OF THE GOOD SHIP KENT, WHO 

LANDED AT RACCOON CREEK, AUGUST 16, 0. S., AND LAID OUT 

THE TOWN ON CHYGOE'S ISLAND " TOWARDS 

YE LATTER PART OF YE 8th 

MONTH," 1677. 



ORATION. 



Theee are few events in American history more interest- 
ing than that which we commemorate to-day. There are 
few stories more honorable than that which I shall have to 
tell. The sun which has broken through the clouds of this 
morning with such unexpected and auspicious splendor, has 
rarely looked down upon an anniversary more worthy to 
be observed than this which marks the peaceful planting 
of a people — the founding of a free and happy common- 
wealth. The life of old Burlington has been a modest one. 
She sings no epic-song of hard-fought fields and gallant 
deeds of arms ; she tells no tales of conquest, of well-won 
triumphs, of bloody victories. Seated in smiling meadows 
and guarded by the encircling pines, her days have been 
full of quietness and all her paths of peace. The hand of 
Time has touched her forehead lightly. The centuries 
have flown by so softly that she has hardly heard the rustle 
of their wings. The stream of years has flowed before her 
feet as smoothly as the broad bosom of her own great river 
by whose banks she dwells. But her history is none the 
less worthy to be remembered, for it is full of those things 
which good men rejoice to find in the character of their 
ancestors — of a courage meek but dauntless, a self-sacrifice 
lowly but heroic, a wisdom humble and yet lofty, a love of 
humanity that nothing could quench, a devotion to liberty 
that was never shaken, an unfaltering and childlike faith 

253 



254 THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 

in God. And it is right that it be remembered by those 
who enjoy the blessings which such qualities have won. 
" I wish/' wrote one who had witnessed the beginning, de- 
scribing in her old age the dangers and trials of her youth, 
" I wish they that come after may consider these things."* 
Seven-score years have gone since that w^as written. The 
heart that held that hope has long been still. The hand 
that wrote those words has been motionless for more than 
a century, and the kindred to whom they were addressed 
have vanished from the earth. But here to-day in that 
ancient town, strangely unaltered by the changes of two 
centuries — here amid scenes with which those venerable 
eyes were so familiar — we who have "come after" have 
assembled to fulfil that pious wish, to "consider those 
things" with reverence and gratitude, and take care that 
they be held hereafter in eternal remembrance and everlast- 
ing honor. 

The causes which led to the event which it is my duty to 
describe to-day are to be found in one of the most interest- 
ing periods of English history. The attempt of Charles I. 
to secure for the Crown a power which not even the pride 
of Henry VIII. had claimed, had ended in disastrous fail- 
ure. Conquered by his people, the unfortunate monarch 
had paid for his folly with his life — a victim less of polit- 
ical hatred than of that personal distrust which his frequent 
Avant of faith had planted in the breast of friends and 
foes — and England was nominally at peace. In reality, 
however, she continued in commotion. The excesses into 
which their triumph over their king and his party not un- 



* Account of Mary Murfin Smith in Baxter and Howe's New 
Jersey Historical Collection, p. 90. Mrs. Smith came over with 
her parents while yet a child. She was drowned in 1739. 



THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 255 

naturally led the victors were soon over, and already, in 
1650, the reaction had set in which Avas destined to lead the 
countr}' backward to the Restoration. But the passions 
into which the civil wars had thrown all classes would not 
easily cool. The struggle of the Cavalier and the Round- 
head was not like that in which two great sections of a vast 
country — each in itself a unit — are pitted against each other. 
It aroused feelings far more personal and bitter. Families 
were divided among themselves, and every man was in arms 
against his neighbor. No single county had borne the 
brunt of a war which had involved all alike, ravaged the 
whole country, and brought desolation to half the hearths 
in England ; and, though peace might be proclaimed, some 
of the spirits which it had called up would not down even at 
the bidding of such a man as Cromwell. Feared at home 
and abroad, and armed with an authority which belonged 
less to his office than to himself, the victor of Worcester 
could govern his turbulent countrymen, but pacify and unite 
them he could not. It might have been possible had their 
differences been simply political, but a deeper feeling entered 
into all the actions of that time. It was the age of politico- 
religious fanaticism. The Cavalier and the Roundhead, 
the Royalist and the Republican, had they been notliing 
more, might have been made to sit down in peace together 
under a liberal and strong government, which, though it 
represented the peculiar ideas of neither, expressed in its 
actions many of the views of both. But Baptist, Presby- 
terian, and Independent, Protestant and Roman Catholic 
no man could reconcile, and between the many sects which 
the spirit of free inquiry had bred in the heat of those 
fanatic days the most vigorous ruler England had ever seen 
had hard work to keep the peace. It is not easy in these 
colder, calmer times to understand the polemic spirit of that 



256 ^^^ SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 

age. It had arisen suddenly and grown with amazing 
speed, and the transition from the manners of the time 
when the graceful Buckingham had set the fashion to those 
of a day in which the psalm-singing soldier of Cromwell 
stood guard before Whitehall, was as extraordinary as it 
had been startling and abrupt. Religion now was the 
mainspring of men's actions, the subject of their talk, the 
basis of their politics, the object of their lives. It is strange 
that religious liberty remained yet to be contended for. Too 
near to the Reformation to have escaped its spirit, and not 
far enough from Philip and Mary's day to have forgotten 
the crimes committed in their name — of which indeed he 
had had beneath his eyes a constant reminder in the scenes 
of which Holland had been the theatre for more than sixty 
years — the Englishman of 1650 was sincerely and aggres- 
sively a Protestant, and it might naturally have been ex- 
pected that religious freedom would in his mind have gone 
hand in hand with the civil liberty for which he had recently 
gained such splendid and substantial triumphs. But such 
was not the case. Free from political tyranny from within, 
he would not brook even the semblance of interference in 
religious matters from without, but, in the fierce contro- 
versies of Englishmen with each other, liberty of conscience 
meant to the zealous theologian of that day — when all men 
claimed to be theologians — only the right of all other men 
to yield their own opinions and agree with him. It was 
soon observed that the sincere bigotry of the Roman Cath- 
olic and the proud intolerance of the English Churchman 
had only given place to a fervent bat narrow piety, which, 
like them, would brook no opposition, mistook differences 
of opinion for hostility, and watched all other creeds with a 
jealous and unchristian eye. Forgetful of the truth that 
all cannot think alike, mixing essentials and non-essentials 



THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 257 

ill blind confusion, and armed with the cant and loose 
learning of the day, men went forth to controversy as the 
knights errant of an earlier and more chivalric, but not more 
zealous, age went forth to battle. Each sect became a po- 
litical party, and every party a religious sect. Each in its 
turn, according to its power, persecuted the others, and all 
united to persecute the Quakers. 

I have no time to-day to describe the rise of the Society 
of Friends. Considered only as a political event and in its 
bearing upon the struggle for civil and religious liberty, it 
is a strange chapter in the history of progress, and it is one 
of the peculiar glories of those whom the world calls 
Quakers, that without justice to their achievements such a 
history would be incomplete.* It was in the midst of the 
stormiest years of the civil war that George Fox began his 
ministry. An humble youth watching his flocks by night 
in the fields of Nottingham, he had heard, as he believed, 
the voice of God within him, and seen afar oiF the star 
that was to become the beacon of his chosen people. That 
light shining impartially on all ; that voice speaking to the 
hearts of all alike ; God and the soul of man in close com- 
munion — the Creator and the humblest of his creatures 
face to face — here was at last the scheme of a spiritual 
democracy striving to lead all men in a single pathway, 
and unite the nations under the same promise of salvation. 
A mystery even to himself, and believing that he was 
divinely appointed. Fox went forth to preach to his coun- 
trymen the new gospel founded on freedom of conscience, 
purity of life, and the equality of man.f The times were 

* Vide Bancroft's History of the United States, vol. ii. chap. xvi. 
f Vide Fox's Life, Barclay's Apology, Gough and Sewell, Besse, 
and Penn's Witness. 



258 ^^^ SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 

ripe for such a mission. The public mind was like tinder, 
and the fire that came from the lips of the joung enthusiast 
soon set England in a blaze. The people flocked to hear 
him, and his enemies became alarmed. Here was not only 
a new religious creed, but a dangerous political doctrine. 
Here was an idea, that, once embodied in a sect, would 
strike a blow at caste and privilege, and shake the very 
foundations of society. But nothing availed to tie the 
tongue of Fox or cool the fervor of his spirit. Threatened, 
fined, and beaten, he turned neither to the right hand nor 
to the left. Often imprisoned, he was released only to set 
forth again undaunted. 

His followers rapidly increased, and the sober yeomanry 
of England began to abandon all and follow him. At 
Cromwell's death the Quakers were already a numerous 
people. At the Restoration they had grown to dangerous 
proportions. Obnoxious naturally to all parties, there were 
reasons wiiy they incurred especial hatred. Their refusal 
to fight, to take an oath, to j)ay tithes or taxes for the re- 
pairs of churches, or acknowledge the authority of the 
priesthood, their determination to worship God publicly 
and ]>roclaim the truth abroad, aroused the hatred of the 
Church, angered all other sects, and brought against them 
the penalties of the existing law, while their simple but 
unwavering determination not to take off their hats, " not 
for want of courtesy," as they said, but as a symbol of their 
belief in man's equality, gained for them the suspicious 
hostility of those whose privileges such a principle would 
utterly destroy. 

Against them, therefore, was directed the vengeance of 
all parties and of every sect. Under all governments it 
was the same, and the Quaker met with even worse treat- 
ment from the Puritan government of New England than 



THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 259 

he had received from either the stern republican of Crom- 
well's time or the gay courtier of the Restoration. Though 
his hand was lifted against no man, all men's were laid 
heavily on him. Everywhere he was exposed to persecution 
and nowhere understood. His religion was called fanaticism, 
his courage stubbornness, his frugality avarice, his simplicity 
ignorance, his piety hypocrisy, his freedom infidelity, his 
conscientiousness rebellion. In En2:land the statutes ao;ainst 
Dissenters, and every law that could be twisted for the 
purpose, were vigorously enforced against him.* Special 
ones were enacted for his benefit, and even Charles II., from 
whose restoration they, in common with all men, expected 
some relief — good-natured Charles, who in general found 
it as hard to hate his enemies as to remember his friends ; 
too indolent, for the most part, either to keep his word or 
lose his temper — took the trouble to exclude the Quakers 
by name from all indulgence.f During the Long Parlia- 
ment, under the Protectorate, at the Restoration — for more 
than thirty years — they were exposed to persecution, fined, 
turned out-of-doors, mobbed, stoned, beaten, set in the 
stocks, crowded in gaols in summer, and kept in foul dun- 
geons without fire in the winter-time, to be releiised at last 
and sold into colonial bondage.| But though they fought 
no fight, they kept the faith. Whatever history may record 
of their lives; whatever learning may think of their at- 
tainments ; whatever philosophy may say of their intelli- 
gence; whatever theology may hold about their creed; 
whatever judgment a calmer posterity, in the light of a 

* Vide Bancroft's History of the United States, vol. ii. chap. xvi. 

f Letter of the King to the Massachusetts Government. 

J Vide Williamson's North Carolina. In one vessel, in March, 
1664, sixty Quaker convicts were shipped for America. Vide also 
Besse and Fox's Journal, Anno 1665. 



260 THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 

higher civilization and a freer age, may pass upon their 
actions, none can deny that they were men who sought the 
faith with zeal, believed with sincerity, met danger with 
courage, and bore suffering with extraordinary fortitude. 
Gold had no power to seduce, nor arms to frighten them. 
" They are a people," said the great Protector, " whom I 
cannot win with gifts, honors, offices, or places."* Dragged 
from their assemblies, they returned ; their meeting-houses 
torn down, they gathered on the ruins. Armed men dis- 
persed them, and they came together again. Their enemies 
" took shovels to throw rubbish on them, and they stood 
close together, willing to be buried alive witnessing the 
Lord." f And when in one of their darkest hours their 
comrades lay languishing in prison, the rest marched in 
procession to Westminster Hall to offer themselves to Par- 
liament as hostages for their brethren. 

I know of few things in the history of the English race 
more noble than this act. No poet has made it the subject 
of his eulogy, and even the historians of civil and religious 
liberty have passed it by. But surely never did the groined 
arches of that ancient hall look down upon a nobler spec- 
tacle. They had seen many a more splendid and brilliant 
one, but none more honorable than this. They had looked 
down on balls and banquets, and coronations and the trial 
of a king, but never, since they were hewn from their native 
oak, did they behold a sight more honorable to human 
nature than that of these humble Quakers grouped below. 
They had rung with the most eloquent voices that ever spoke 

* Bancroft's History of the United States, vol. ii. p. 345 ; Fox's 
Journal, p. 162. 

f Bancroft's History of the United States, vol. ii. p. 355 ; Barclay, 
356, 483, 484. 



THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 261 

the English tongue, but never heard before such words as 
these. (Let me repeat them here to-day, for among tliose 
that spoke them were men that founded Burlington) : " In 
Love to our Brethren," they say to Parliament, " that lie 
in Prisons and Houses of Correction and Duno-eons, and 
many in Fetters and Irons, and have been cruelly beat by 
the cruel Gaolers, and many have been persecuted to Death 
and have died in Prisons, and many lie sick and weak in 
Prison and on Straw," we "do oifer up our Bodies and 
Selves to you, for to put us as Lambs into the same Dun- 
geons and Houses of Correction, and their Straw and nasty 
Holes and Prisons, and do stand ready a Sacrifice for to go 
into their Places, that they may go forth and not die in 
Prison as many of the Brethi'en are dead already. For we 
are willing to lay down our Lives for our Brethren and to 
take their Sufferings upon us tliat you would inflict on 
them. . . . And if you will receive our Bodies, which we 
freely tender to you, for our Friends that are now in Prison 
for speahing the Truth in several places ; for not paying 
Tithes; for meeting together in the Fear of God ; for not 
Swearing; for wearing their Hats; for being accounted as 
Vagrants; for visiting Friends, and for Things of a like 
Nature. We, whose Names are hereunto subscribed, being 
a sufficient Number, are waiting in Westminster-hall for an 
Answer from you to us, to answer our Tenders and to mani- 
fest our Love to our Friends and to stop the Wrath and 
Judgment from coming to our Enemies."* 

Well done, disciple of the shoemaker of Nottingham ! 
No prince or king ever spoke braver words than these! 
What matter if your Parliament send back for answer sol- 

* Vide Preface to Joseph Besse's Sufferings of the Quakers, vol. i. 
p. iv. 



262 "^HE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 

diers with pikes and muskets to drive you out into the 
street? Go forth content! What if your brethren lan- 
guish and die in gaol? You shall not long be parted. 
What if the times be troubled and nights of sorrow follow 
days of suffering? They cannot last forever. What if the 
heathen rage and the swords of the wicked be drawn against 
you ? The peace within you they cannot take away. The 
world may note you little and history keep no record of 
your life. Your kindred may pass you by in silence and 
your name be unremembered by your children. No man 
may know your resting-place. But what of that? You 
have done one of those things that ennoble humanity — and 
by One, at least, who saw it, you will not be unrewarded 
nor forgotten ! 

Such was the condition of affairs when the opportunity of 
the Quakers arose out of the necessities of their enemies. 
Between the Dutch New Netherlands and the English colony 
of Virginia lay a noble river draining a fertile and pleasant 
land. Hudson had discovered it in 1609, and the following 
year the dying Lord de la Warr had bequeathed to it his 
name. For thirty years the three Protestant nations of 
Europe had contended for its shores, each victorious in its 
turn, until, at length, the dominion of the Dutchman and 
the Swede came to an end forever, and the flag of England 
floated in triumph over their few and feeble settlements.* 

It was at this time, in the year 1664, that the Duke of 
York, afterward James II., eager to mend his fortunes, 
persuaded King Charles II. to give him a large share of 

* I cannot but regret the necessity which compelled me to pass 
by in a paragraph the forty years which followed the expedition of 
Captain Mey. Some future historian of Pennsylvania will find them 
full of fascinating materials. Isaac Miekle's " Reminiscences of Old 
Gloucester" is well worth reading in this connection. 



THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 263 

the newly-acquired territoiy in America. It was hardly 
yet subdued, but Charles carelessly complied. In a patent, 
the date of which reveals the duke's haste to secure the 
grant, the king conveyed to his brother all that territory 
M'hieli may be roughly described as lying between Delaware 
Bay and the Canadian border. Hardly had the ink become 
dry upon this parchment when James himself, in consider- 
ation of " a competent sum of money," sold what is now 
known as New Jersey to two of his friends, Sir George 
Carteret and Lord Berkeley. England was now full of 
colonization schemes. The rude interruption of the civil 
war was over, and men began to remember the days when 
Smith and lialeigh were wont to return from America with 
glowing descriptions of what they had seen in that mys- 
terious country. A sterner age had followed, and few now 
perhaps cherished the golden visions which had led those 
brilliant adventurers into the exploits which have immor- 
talized their names, but there still lived in the Englishman 
of the seventeenth century the love of adventure, and the 
desire to spread the dominion of the Crown, and America 
lay before him an attractive field. The failure of Sir Ed- 
mund Ployden to carry out his romantic and fantastic plan 
of building up a power called New Albion, of which he 
assumed in advance the title of Earl Palatine,* taught an 
unheeded lesson, and dreams of future empire continued to 
dazzle many an English mind. But years passed by w^ith- 
out result. Carteret, the younger of the new proprietors, 
managed to plant some settlements in Eastern Jersey, where 
to this day the city of Elizabeth perpetuates the name of his 

* Vide Mickle's Reminiscences of Old Gloucester, p. 24. Beau- 
champ Plantagenet's Description of New Albion, in the Philadelphia 
Library. 



264 "^HE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 

accomplished wife, and a few Englishmen from Connecticut 
found a precarious foothold on the banks of the Delaware, 
but for the most part all attempts to encourage immigration 
ended in expensive failure. As it had been with Massa- 
chusetts it was with Pennsylvania and the Jerseys. The 
foot of the adventurer was not suifered to rest in peace upon 
soil destined by the Almighty for a nobler purpose than to 
enrich the unworthy or mend the broken fortunes of an 
English nobleman. The fingers which had grasped so 
eagerly the choice places of the New Continent were quickly 
to be loosened, and the wilderness kept ready as a place of 
refuge for an oppressed and persecuted people. 

After ten years of thankless eiforts and unprofitable 
ownership, and too old to hope for a realization of his 
plans, my Lord Berkeley became anxious to be rid of his 
province, and offered it for sale. The opportunity was a 
rare one for the Quakers. To America they had naturally 
looked as a place to which they might escape and bear with 
them in peace their peculiar principles and creed. In that 
distant country they might, it seemed to them, worship God 
according to their consciences. Three thousand miles of 
sea (ten times as great a distance then as now) would lie 
between them and their enemies, and in the wilderness, at 
least, with trial and privation would dwell peace. 

For a while, indeed, they were deterred by a sentiment 
that was natural to men of English blood. Persecution, 
thought some of them, ought not to be avoided. The 
trials, the sufferings, the dangers to which they were ex- 
posed it was their duty to meet, and not to shun. Let us 
endure these things for the glory of the truth, and not try, 
like cowards, to avoid them. Let us bear this burden our- 
selves, nor leave it for others to take up. This unwilling- 
ness to flee before the face of persecution held them for 



THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 265 

some time resolute and tirm. But, at length, another sen- 
timent prev^ailed. It sprang from the thought that others 
were destined to come after them. There is nothing more 
remarkable in the history of this country than the fact that 
those who settled it seem everywhere alike to have been 
moved by the belief that they acted, not for themselves, 
but for posterity. Not for himself alone did the Pilgrim 
embark upon the Mayflower : not for himself alone did the 
Puritan seek a shelter on the bleak shores of Massachusetts: 
not for himself only did Roger Williams gather his little 
colony at the head of Narragansett Bay ; and the same 
faith that he was building in the wilderness a place of 
refuge for the oppressed forever led the stern Quaker out 
of England. Not for us, but for the sake of them that 
shall come after us. This was the faith that sustained 
them without a murnmr through all the horrors of a New 
England winter ; that kept their courage up while the Con- 
necticut Valley rang with the war-whoop of the Indian ; 
that raised their fainting spirits beneath the scorching rays 
of a Southern sun ; that made them content and hapj[)y in 
the untrodden forest of New Jersey. 

"The settlement of this country," writes one who wit- 
nessed it, " was directed l)y an impulse on the spirits of 
God's people, not for their own ease and tranquillity, but 
rather for the posterity that should be after them.'* 

Proud may we justly be, Americans, of those who laid 
the foundations of our happiness. I know of no people 
who can })oint to a purer and less selfish ancestry — of no 
nation that looks back to a nobler or more honorable origin. 

There were many reasons why our forefathers, when at 



* Thomas Shai'p's Memoir in Newton Monthly Meeting Records. 
Vide Bowden's History of Friends, p. 16. 

18 



266 ^^^ SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 

last they had convinced themselves that it was right for 
them to emigrate, should have turned their eyes upon New 
Jersey. The unrelenting Puritan had long ago shut in 
their faces the doors of Massachusetts Bay and Plymouth 
Colony. New York had already been appropriated by the 
Dutch, and the followers of Fox could find little sympathy 
among; those who had established settlements within the 
wide borders of the Old Dominion. Besides, George Fox 
himself had travelled across New Jersey two or three years 
before. He had seen the beauty of the South Piver and 
the majestic forests that lined its shores. The Swedes and 
Dutch upon its banks were few in number and of a peace- 
ful disposition, and the Indians, its natives, were noted for 
their gentleness. The river of Delaware was universally 
described as a " goodly and noble river" — the soil was rich 
and fertile, the " air," as was soon to be written, was " very 
delicate, pleasant, and wholesome, the heavens serene, rarely 
overcast, bearing mighty resemblance to the better part of 
France."* Just at this time the property of Lord Berke- 
ley was offered for sale. The wealthier men among the 
Friends saw the opportunity, and Edward Byllynge and 
John Fenwick became its purchasers. A devoted Friend, 
Byllynge had been one of those who offered themselves as 
hostages at Westminster in 1659. He had suffered like all 
the rest, but had continued to be thought a man of prop- 
erty. But times were hard, and when the conveyance came 
to be made the name of John Fenwick, as trustee, was 
substituted for that of Byllynge, and after a little while all 
the interest of the latter was given up for the benefit of 
creditors to three trustees, Gawen Lawrie, Nicholas Lucas, 

* Gabriel Thomas's Description of Pennsylvania and West Jersey, 
published in 1698, p. 7. 



THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 267 

and William Pcnn. Now for the first time in American 
history appears the name of that great man whom, in the 
words of Lord Macaulay, who viewed him with mistaken 
and unfriendly eye, " a great Commonwealth regards with 
a reverence similar to that which the Athenians felt for 
Theseus and the Romans for Quirinus."* It is interesting 
to remark, as one reads of the reluctance with which he 
assumed this task, how directly Penn's connection with the 
settlement of Burlington led to the founding of Pennsyl- 
vania. 

It was now the year of Grace 1675. John Fenwick, a 
soldier of the civil Avar and now a Quaker (whose memory 
has been recently preserved by the pen of a Jerseymanf), 
soon set sail Avitli his family and a small company of 
Friends. Entering the Capes, after a prosperous voyage, 
he landed on the eastern shore at a "pleasant, rich spot," 
to which, in memory of its peaceful aspect, he gave the 
name of Salem — an appellation which that quiet town has 
continued to deserve even unto this day. Two years of 
comparative inaction followed. Troublesome disputes be- 
tween Fenwick and Byllynge, which it required all the 
authority and address of Penn to settle, threatened destruc- 
tion to the colony. But at length these came to an end, 
and the settlement began in earnest. There were important 
things to be done at the beginning. First, the province 
had to be divided by agreement with the owner of the 
other half, and this was not accomplished until 1676. A 
line was provided to be drawn northward from Egg Har- 

* Macaulay's History of England, vol. i. p. 394. 

t lion. John Clement, of Iladdonfield, New Jersey, to whom I am 
indebted for kind suggestions in the preparation of this address. A 
full account of the relations of Fenwick and Byllynge may be found 
in his valuable History of Fenwick's Colony. 



268 THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 

bor to the Delaware, dividing the province into two. The 
eastern part was taken by Sir George Carteret ; the other by 
the trustees, who gave it the name of West New Jersey. 
Penn and his agents next divided their share into one hun- 
dred parts, of which they assigned ten to Fenwick and 
ninety to the creditors of Byllynge. But their most im- 
portant duty was to frame a constitution for tlie new coun- 
try. This was no easy task. None of these men were 
legislators. Neither by birth nor election had they en- 
joyed the advantages of experience in the legislative bodies 
of their country. They were not generally men of reading 
or education (with the exception of Penn), nor of that 
training which is usually essential to true statesmanship. 
Nor in those days had the making of free constitutions 
been a frequent task. He who attempted it entered an 
unknown and dangerous country, full of disappointments. 
Lucas and LaM^rie were men of business little known ; 
Penn was a youth of two-and-thirty, and among all their 
associates there were few who had knowledge and none 
who had experience of Statecraft. But they were animated 
by the truest spirit of philanthropy, by the sincerest love 
of liberty, by the warmest devotion to what they under- 
stood to be the command of God. And they were, after 
all, worthy to lay the foundations of a free and humane 
government. Independence of thought, Freedom of per- 
son, Liberty of conscience : these were the things they all 
believed in, and for them they were ready to make any 
sacrifice. For liberty they had suffered each and all. For 
it, men like them had scorned danger and gone chanting 
into battle. For the sake of it they had even welcomed 
the horrors of civil war. For it they had charged their 
brethren at Naseby and ridden rough-shod over their kin- 
dred upon Marston Moor. And now they were ready, if 



THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 269 

the day were lost at home, to abandon all and seek it be- 
yond the sea. On liberal principles, then, did they natur- 
ally determine to build up their new government in the 
wilderness, where, a century afterward, their children, for 
whom they were making so many sacrifices, were destined 
to fight over again the same battle with an equal courage 
and devotion. Little did they dream — those stern yet 
gentle men of peace — wdien they gave to their infant 
Commonwealth freedom from all taxation except what its 
own Assemblies should impose, that a hundred years later 
England would rise up, sword in hand, to take it back ; 
that for the sake of a principle, which they never thought 
to call in question, the little town which they were about 
to found would one day tremble at the roar of contending 
cannon, and the banks of Delaware be stained with Eng- 
lish blood ! Could they have been permitted to foresee the 
struggle that was yet to come they could not more wisely 
have prepared posterity to meet it. First, they created an 
Executive and Legislative power ; the former to be chosen 
by the latter, the Assembly by the people, voting to be by 
ballot, and every man capable to choose and to be chosen. 
Each member of the Assembly they agreed " hath liberty 
of speech," and shall receive for wages one shilling a day, 
" that thereby he may be known as the servant, of the peo- 
ple." No man shall be imprisoned for debt nor, without 
the verdict of a jury, deprived of life, liberty or estate, 
"and all and every person in the province shall, by the 
help of the Lord and these fundamentals, be free from op- 
pression and slavery." The Indian was to be protected in 
his rights and the orphan brought up by the State. Re- 
ligious freedom in its broadest sense was to be secured, and 
no one " in the least punished or hurt, in person, estate or 
privilege, for the sake of his opinion, judgment, faith, or 



270 THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 

worship toward God in matters of religion ; for no man nor 
number of men upon earth have power to rule over men's 
consciences."* " Such," writes one who, though an alien 
to their blood and of an hostile creed, could do them justice, 
"is an outline of the composition which forms the first 
essay of Quaker legislation, and entitles its authors to no 
mean share in the honor of planting civil and religious 
liberty in America/'f Happy would it have been for 
the children of those simple-minded men had they never 
departed from ideas so true, so wise, and so humane ! 

The authors of this document, adopted and signed on the 
3d of March, 1676, seem to have seen the goodness of their 
handiwork. " There," they cry in words which are at once 
a prophesy and a confession of faith, " we lay a foundation 
for after-ages to understand their liberty, as men and 
Christians, that they may not be brought in bondage but 
by their own consent. For we put the power in the people.^^X 

So much, then, for this government on paper. AVhere 
now are the men to put it into execution? They come 
from two diiferent parts of England. Among the cred- 
itors of Byllynge were five Friends who dwelt in Yorkshire. 
Persecutions had been very severe in that county, and York 
Castle at one time contained a large number of prominent 
Friends.§ Among these latter were five heads of families 

* Smith prints this remarkable document in full in the appendix 
to his History of New Jersey, p. 512. 

t History of the United States, by James Grahame, LL.D., vol. i. 
p. 475. 

X Letter of Penn and the others to Ilartshorne, London, 6th mo. 
26, 1676 ; Smith's History of New Jersey, p. 80. 

I William Clayton, Richard nancock, John Ellis, Richard Guy, 
and Richard Woodmancy were in York Castle at different times 
between 1660 and 1677 ; Christopher Wetherill in Beverley Gaol in 
1660. F/rfc Besse, ^assm. 



THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 271 

who were glad to join the creditors of Byllynge in their 
new plan for settling West Jersey, and a company was 
speedily formed among them, which was known as the 
Yorkshire Company. It was thus that the names of Clay- 
ton, Ellis, Hancock, Helmsley, Stacy, and Wetherill first 
came to be transported into Jersey. Meantime another 
coraj)any was forming in the vicinity of London. Men 
came from different parts of England to join its ranks ; 
William Peachy, fresh from his trial at Bristol and under 
sentence of banishment as a convict for attending: " meet- 
ings;" John Kinsey, of Hadham in Hertfordshire, himself 
a prisoner a few years before, and marked among these 
settlers of Burlington as the first to die ; John Cripps, 
twelve days in a cell in Newgate for " keeping his hat on 
in a bold, irreverent manner" when the Lord Mayor passed 
by into Guildhall ; Thomas Ollive, familiar with the inside 
of Northampton Gaol ; John Woolston, his companion in 
that prison, and Dr. Daniel AYills, tried for banishment for 
a third offence, and thrice in prison for holding meetings in 
his house.* The last three were all men of note, and their 
joining the London Company had great influence on its 
history. In the little town of Wellingborough, the home 
of Ollive, and near which the others dwelt, there was a 
monthly meeting. Here Dewsbury, in 1654, had converted 
many to the Truth, and here he had been mobbed and 
thrown in gaol. By the spring of 1677 his disciples had 
become numerous in Northamptonshire, and nowhere, per- 

* Vide Besse's Sufferings, where these facts are all set forth with 
painful particularity. The names of nearly all the early settlers of 
Burlington can be found in that record of persecution. I doubt if 
there has ever been another town of which so many of its citizens 
had been in gaol. Certainlj'- no other can speak of the matter Avith 
so much honest pride. 



272 "THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 

haps, had the propriety of going to America been more 
earnestly discussed. " Many who were vahiable," sayS an 
old account, "doubting, lest it should be deemed flying 
from persecution." In the midst of this discussion, he, 
who had converted so many in the place twelve years before, 
gathered the faithful about him and bade them go. "The 
Lord," he said, "is about to plant the wilderness of America 
with a choice vine of noble seed, which shall grow and 
flourish." Let His servants depart thither and they shall 
do well. "I see them, I see them, under His blessing, 
arising into a prosperous and happy state."* And so it 
came about that many of that little band followed the lead 
of Thomas Ollive and Dr. Daniel Wills, and turned their 
faces toward London. 

The preparations are now made and the time for departure 
is at hand. The two companies have appointed commis- 
sioners to govern them — Joseph Helmsley, Robert Stacy, 
William Eraley, and Thomas Foulke, for the Yorkshire 
people; Thomas Ollive, Daniel Wills, John Penford, and 
Benjamin Scott, for the London purchasers. They have 
secured a staunch ship, under the command of an expe- 
rienced seaman, and she is now lying ready in the Thames. 
With what feelings does this band of self-devoted exiles go 
on board ! Does any one of tlie half million souls in the 
great metropolis notice the little company of English yeo- 
men, as, laden with their scanty store of household stuff' 
and leading their wives and children by the hand, they 
shake the dust of England from their feet and clamber on 
the deck ? Does any one foresee, as he looks with pride on 

* Life of William Dewsbury ; Account of James and William 
Brown in Nottingham, Pennsylvania, Monthly Meeting Records. 
Vide aLvo The Friend, vol. 23, pp. 443, 451. 



THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 273 

the forest of masts and yard-arms tliat stretches from Lon- 
don Tower to London Bridge, that of all the ships that 
move to and fro beneath him, or lie at anchor in the 
crowded Thames, but one shall be remembered? It is not 
that big merchantman, fast to yonder wharf, discharging 
the rich cargo she has just brought from the Indies; nor 
this gallant vessel that, as she swings with the tide, turns 
to him a hull scarred with many a Dutch or Spanish 
broadside; nor yet the stately ship that, at this moment, 
comes slowly up, under full sail, from Gravesend. Long 
after these and they that sailed them shall have been for- 
gotten, the happy citizens of a free commonwealth in a 
distant land shall speak with affectionate remembrance of 
the good ship " Kent" and " Master Godfrey Marlow !" 
Obscure and unnoticed and, perhaps on that account undis- 
turbed, all are at last on board. They have taken leave of 
their country ; it remains only to say farewell to their King. 
It is a pleasant day in the opening summer, and London is 
full of gayety. The banquets at Whitehall have never 
been more brilliant, and the King, in spite of French 
victories and Popish plots and Quaker persecutions, is as 
gay as ever. What cares good-natured Charles, or my lady 
of Cleveland, or his Lordship of Buckingham if the public 
mind be full of discontent and the public coffers empty and 
the prestige of England be threatened both on sea and 
land ? The weather is fine, the French gold still holds 
out, and the charms of Her Grace of Portsmouth are as 
fresh as ever. The bright sun and the pleasant air tempt 
His Majesty upon the water and he passes the afternoon 
floating in his barge. The Thames is full of shipping, for 
at this time London has no rival in commerce but Amster- 
dam, and the King amuses himself watching the vessels as 
they come to and fro. Suddenly the barge aj)proaches a 



274 '^HE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 

ship evidently about to sail. Something attracts the King, 
and draws him near. A group of men and women are on 
the deck, plain in appearance, sombre in dress, quiet in 
demeanor. They are of the yeoman class chiefly, and the 
gay courtiers wonder what attracts the attention of the 
King. The two strangely different vessels come together, 
and for a moment those widely separated companies are face 
to face. Charles, with that pleasant voice that could heal 
with a friendly phrase the wounds inflicted by a lifetime of 
ingratitude, inquires who they are. " Quakers, bound to 
America !" is the reply. There is a pause for an instant, 
and then the King, with a royal gesture, flings them his 
blessing, and Charles II. and his Quaker subjects have 
parted forever.* Each to his fate according to his manner. 
" Now," said old Socrates to his weeping friends, " it is time 
to part, you to life and I to death — which of the two things 
is the better is known only unto God."t And now the 
wind is fair and the tide is full and the steeples of London 
are sinking in the west. Farewell, broad fields of Norfolk 
and pleasant Kentish woods ! Farewell, ye Yorkshire 
moors and sloping Sussex downs ! Farewell, old mother 
England! Our feet shall never tread upon your shores 
again. Our eyes shall never more behold your face ; but 
from our loins a greater Britain shall arise to bless a con- 
tinent with English law and English liberty and English 
speech ! 

On the 6th of August (old style), 1677, there is excite- 
ment on the Kent. The voyage has been fair, but the 

* Vide Smith's History of New Jersey, p. 93 : " King; Chai-les the 
Second in his barge, pleasuring on the Thames, came alongside, 
seeing a great many passengers, and, informed whence they were 
bound, asked if they were all Quakers, and gave them his blessing.'' 

t Plato's Apologia, cap. xxxiii. 



THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 275 

ocean is wide and full of perils, and all are longing for the 
land. Suddenly a faint line appears on the horizon. Slowly 
it rises from the sea until at last the straining ej'es of the 
Kent's passengers can make out land. It is a low, sandy 
beach projecting far into the sea. By and by behind it 
appears the faint blue of distant hills, and at last the clear 
outlines of a well-wooded shore. The old ship turns to the 
northwest and enters tlie mouth of a beautiful bay. This 
is the first view of the Western World — the harbor of New 
York. The object the emigrants have in view in coming 
here is to wait upon Sir Edmund Andros, the Duke of 
York's lately appointed governor of his territory.* Ac- 
cordingly the commissioners go on shore. Andros receives 
them coldly. They inform him of their purpose to settle 
on the Delaware. He feigns an ignorance of their author- 
ity. They remind him of the law, and repeat how the land 
in West Jersey was granted by the King to his brother, by 
the Duke to Carteret and Berkeley, and by them to their 
grantors. It is of no use. " Show me a line from the 
Duke himself," says Andros. They have neglected this 
precaution. Upon which the governor forbids them to 
proceed, and when remonstrated with, touches his sword 
significantly. Here is a new and unexpected trouble, and 
it is no comfort to learn that John Fenwick is at the 
moment a prisoner in New York for attempting his settle- 
ment at Salem without the Duke's authority. Suddenly 
their perplexity is unexpectedly relieved. If they will take 
commissions from him Sir Edmund will allow them to set 
sail, but they must promise to write to England and abide 
by the result. Anxious to escape from the dilemma they 
accept the proposal ; Fenwick is released at the same time, 

* Smith's History of New Jersey, p. 93. 



276 I'HE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 

and they set sail for the Delaware. On the 16th day of 
August — about the 26th according to our style — they reach 
the site of New Castle, and presently — two hundred and 
thirty in number — land at the mouth of Raccoon Creek.* 
The few settlements of the Dutch and Swedes have hardly 
changed the original appearance of the country, and they 
find themselves on the borders of a wilderness. The Swedes 
have a few houses at the landing-place, and in these and in 
tents and caves our new-comers take temporary lodging. It 
is a change from the snug homes to which they have been 
accustomed, and tlie fare they find is rough, but there is no 
murmuring among them. "I never heard them say," 
wrote one of their number, who had herself exchanged a 
pleasant home in England for a cave — "I never heard 
them say ' I would I had never come,' which it is worth 
observing, considering how plentifully they had lived in 2 

England."t But they were not given to complaining, and *• ' 



* Smith's History, p. 93. 

f Barber and Howe's Historical Collection, p. 90. " My friend 
William John Potts, Esq., of Camden, New Jersey, an indefatigable 
antiquary, whose acquaintance with early history has been of the 
greatest assistance to me, writes : ' Some of them were obliged to live 
in caves, owing to the scarcity of houses. Similar instances occurred 
in the first settlement of Philadelphia. I have the honor to descend 
from a cave-dweller myself. The most noted instance of this I think 
you will find in Barber and Howe, under Columbus, where it is men- 
tioned that in that part of Burlington County Thomas Seattergood, 
whose benevolent name still flourishes among us, brought up nine 
children in a cave.' Like Mr. Potts, I can count a cave-dweller 
among my ancestors. One of them sailed up Dock Creek, now Dock 
Street, and landing, lived in a cave below Second Street while his 
house was building. No less a person than Francis Daniel Pastorius 
lived in a cave in October, 1683. These caves were excavations in 
the banks, roofed and faced with logs overlaid with sod or bark, or 



THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 211 

moreover the autumn is at hand. Without delay the com- 
missioners set out to examine the country and settle the 
terms of purchase with the Indians. Accompanied by 
Swedisli interpreters they buy three tracts — from the As- 
san])ink to the liancocas, from Rancocas to Timber Creek, 
and from Timber Creek to Old Man's Creek.* The York- 
shire purchasers choose the former as their share; the 
London decide to settle at Arwaumus, near tiie present 
Gloucester; and Daniel Wills orders timber to be felled 
and grass to be cut in preparation for the winter. 

But a second thought prevails. Why should we sepa- 
rate? We have passed through many perils together, we 
are few in number, the forests are thick and full of savages ; 
let us build a town in company. It is at once agreed upon. 
Where shall it be? Old Man's Creek is too near John 
Fenwick's colony ; Assanpink is too far ; the mouth of the 
Rancocas is a marsh. None of these points will do. About 
six miles above the last-named creek, within the limits of 
the Yorkshire tenth, there are two islands. One, called 
" Matiniconk," lies in the middle of the river, which here 
turns suddenly to the south, and forms a little bay. The 
other lies close against the Jersey shore, from which it is 
separated only by a narrow creek w'here the tide ebbs and 
flows, and is known as "Jegou's Island." It has taken 
this name not from an Indian chief, as is at first supposed, 
but from a Frenchman who lately lived at " Water-Lily 
Point."t On this neck of land between the Asiskonk 

plastered with clay." — Vide \Yatson's Annals of Philadelphia, vol. i. 
p. 171. 

* The list of articles paid for the land can be found in Smith's 
History of New Jersey, p. 95, note. 

f In an unpublished lecture delivered in 1S70, the Rev. William 
Allen Johnson, formerly rector of St. Mary's, has solved these two 



278 THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 

Creek and the Delaware River, opposite Matiniconk, three g 

Dutchmen settled long before the surrender to the English. f 

Their rights were recognized by Governor Carteret in 1666, 
and soon afterward sold to Peter Jegou, M'ho, about 1668, ' 

armed with a license from the same authority, built on the '• 

point, hard by the water-side, a log house after the Swedish 
fashion.* It was the only tavern in this part of the country. 
And it was well placed, for at this point the narrow foot- 
path which leads through the woods from the banks of the 
North River comes out upon the Delaware, and those who 
journey from Manhattan toward Virginia, must cross the - 

latter river at this point. This is the place which Gov- W 

ernor Lovelace meant when in .expectation of a journey 
thither some years ago, he directed one of his servauts to » 

"go with the horse allotted by the captain, as speedily as a 

you can, to Navesiuk, and thence to the house of Mr. Jegoe, ■ 

riffht ag-ainst Matiniconk Island, on Delaware River, where 
there are persons ready to receive you."f But the journey 
was not undertaken, for somehow or other Jegou became 
an object of hatred to the Indians, and recently (in 1670) || 

they have plundered him and driven him away. His house W 

questions, which so long puzzled the local antiquary : " Chygoe," 
he says, is a misspelling of the name of Jegou, and "Lazy" or 
" Leazy" Point — which he has found spelled in five different ways -S 

— a corruption of the Dutch word Lisch, Pond- or Water-Lily. I 'f 

have no doubt of the correctness of this simple explanation. Water- ' 

Lily Point would not be an inappropriate name for the place to- 
day. Mr. Johnson's lecture was the result of much labor and 
careful examination. The credit of settling these points belongs 
entirely to him. 

* Record of Upland Court, 9th mo. 25, 1679 ; Memoirs of Histori- 
cal Society of Pennsylvania, vol. vii. p. 140. 

f For this I am indebted to the discoveries among the Records at 
Albany of the Rev. W. A. Johnson. 



THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 279 

was empty and deserted five years ago, as is mentioned by 
a very noted traveller. After a day's journey of fifty miles 
without seeing man or woman, house or dwelling-place, he 
says, " at night, finding an old house which the Indians had 
forced the people to leave, we made a fire and lay there at 
the head of Delaware Bay. The next day we swam our 
horses over the river, about a mile, twice, first to an island 
called Upper Dinidock, and then to the mainland, having 
hired Indians to help us over in their canoes." This is 
especially interesting, for the name of that traveller was 
George Fox.* 

" Matiniconk" lies too far from the mainland, but Jegou's 
Island is a very fit place for a town. It is about a mile 
long and half as wade. It lies, as I have said, on the only 
path between the North River and the South, and the chan- 
nel in front of it is deep enough for ships of large burden. 
Its soil is rich, its meadows rank with grass, its trees tall 
and luxuriant, and its green and sloping bank destined to 
be always beautiful. The decision in its favor is soon made, 
and the emigrants, embarking in small boats, ascend the 
Delaware. 

Tinakonk, the residence of the ancient Swedish Gover- 
nors ; Wickakoe, a small settlement of that people, close to 
the high bluff called " Coaquannock," " a splendid site for a 
town ;" Takona, an ancient Indian town, and the mouth of 
the Rancocas, or " Northampton River," are passed in turn. 
It is already late in October, and the wild landscape lies 
bathed in the mellow glory of the Indian summer. Beneath 
a sky more cloudless than English eyes have been wont to 
see, waves the primeval forest clad in the rainbow garments 
of the Fall. No sound breaks the stillness save the plash 

* Fox's Journal, 7th mo. 10, 1672 



280 THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 

of the oars in the water or the whistling of the wings of the 
wild-fowl that rise in countless numbers from the marshes. 
The air is full of the perfume of grapes, that hang in 
clusters on the banks and climb from tree to tree, and the 
sturgeons leap before the advancing prow. The startled 
deer stands motionless upon the beach ; and hidden in the 
tangled thickets the Indian gazes in silent wonder at 
the pale-faced strangers who have come to take his place 
in the land of his fathers. Presently the river seems 
suddenly to come to a stop. On the left is a gravel beach. 
In the distance in front, is an island, with a steep red bank 
washed by the rushing stream and pierced with swallows' 
holes. To the right, a bit of marsh, the mouth of a 
silvery creek, a meadow sloping to the shore, and then 
a high bank lined with mulberries and sycamores and 
unutterably green. For the first time, and after so many 
days, the eyes of its founders have rested U230n Burling- 
ton ! 

Among them was a youth of one-and-twenty. The first 
of his race to be born in the Quaker faith, he had grown 
up amid persecution and been familiar with suffering from 
his boyhood. A child of tender years he had, wonderingly, 
followed his family, driven from their old home for con- 
science' sake, and among his earliest recollections was the 
admonition of his dying father to seek a refuge beyond the 
sea. Beside him was the English maiden who, in a short 
time, in the primitive meeting-house made of a sail taken 
from the Kent, was to become his wife. Little that youth- 
ful pair imagined, as they gazed for the first time on Jegou's 
Island, that at the end of two centuries, one of their name 
and lineage, looking back to them over the graves of five 
generations of their children, would stand here in old Bur- 
lington to-day, and lift his voice in commemoration of an 



THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 281 

event in Mhich tlicy were then taking an humble but honor- 
able part !* 

Among those who landed on the bank at Burlington on 
that autumn day was Richard Noble, a surveyor. He had 
come with John Fen wick two years before, and his profes- 
sion had naturally made him familiar with the country. To 
him was at once committed the duty of laying out the town 
— a labor in which William Matlack and others of the 
young men assisted. t A broad and imposing main street 
was opened through the forest, running at right angles to 
the river, southward into the country. It is probable that 
it did not at first extend very far past the place at which 
we are gathered now. Another, crossing it, ran lengthwise 
through the middle of the island, and a third Avas opened 
on the bank. The town thus laid out was divided into 
twenty properties — ten in the eastern part for the Yorkshire 
men, and ten in the western for the London proprietors. 
All hands went at once to work to prepare for the winter. 
Marshall, a carpenter, directed the building, and the forests 
began to resound with the blows of his axe. A clearing 

* James Browne, tlie fourth son of Richard and Mary Browne, of 
Sywell, in Northamptonshire, was born on the 27th of 3d month, 
165G. His father, whom William Dewsbury had converted in 1654-5, 
died in 1662, before which time the family had removed to Pudding- 
ton, in Bedfordshire. James remained at Burlington but a short 
time, settling in 1678 at Chichester or Markus Hook, in Pennsyl- 
vania. On the 8tli of the 6tli month, 1679, he married, at Burling- 
ton, Honour, the daughter of William Clayton (one of the Yorksliire 
purchasers and a passenger with his family in the Kent). lie lived 
on his place, called " Podington," on Chichester Creek, until 1705, 
when he gave it to his son William and removed "into the wilder- 
ness." He died at Nottingham, Pennsylvania, in 1716. 

f William Matlack's affidavit, stating these facts, is to be found 
in Book A, in the Surveyor-General's office in Burlington. 

19 



282 'THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 

was made on the south side of tlie raaui street, near Broad, 
and a tent pitched there as a temporary meeting-honse. In 
a short time the settlement began to have the appearance of 
a town, and, when worthy of a name, in memory of a vil- 
lage in old Yorkshire, was christened " Burlington."* The 
dwellings were at first caves, dug in the banks and faced 
with boards, or shanties of the most primitive description. 
They were not built of logs, as is popularly believed. It 
is to the Swede alone that we owe the " block-house" of 
our early Indian wars and the " log cabin" of political cam- 
paigns. Two Dutch travellers who saw Burlington when 
it was two years old, say on this point that " the English 
and many others have houses made of nothing but clap- 
boards, as they call them here. They make a wooden 
frame, as in Westphalia and at Altona, but not so strong, 
then split boards of clapwood like coopers' staves, though 
unbent, so that the thickest end is about a little finger thick, 
and the other is made sharp like the end of a knife. They 
are about five or six feet long, and are nailed on with the 
ends lapping over each other. . . . When it is cold and 
windy the best people plaster them with clay."t From 
these details we can imagine the homes of our first settlers, 
" many of whom," says one of them, " had been men of 
good estate." That they remembered their English homes 

* Smith says it was first called New Beverley, and next, Bridling- 
ton, and by the latter name it appears on Holme's Map, dated 1682. 
I find, however, that the earliest letters written from the place (sev- 
eral within a week or two of the beginning of the town) are dated 
at " Burlington." Bridlington and Burlington are the same name, 
and the latter is a very old form of the word. Richard Boyle was 
created Earl of BnrUngton in 1663. 

t Journal of Dankcrs and Sluyter in 1679, published by Long 
Island Historical Society, vol. i. pp. 173-175. 



THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 283 

M'itli fond aflPcctioii is proved in many ways. Wills gave 
to one portion of the neighborhood the name of his native 
" ^Northampton," which it bears to-day, and the township 
of " Willingborough," where many of you dwell, recalls the 
home of Ollive. " York" Street is close at hand, though 
the bridge that bore that name has disappeared ; and what 
boy is there in Burlington to-day that has not thrown a 
line from " London" bridge ? " Oh, remember us," they 
write to their friends in England, " for we cannot forget 
you ; many waters cannot quench our love nor distance 
wear out the deep remembrance. . . . Tiiough the Lord 
hath been pleased to remove us far away from you, as to 
the ends of the earth, yet are we present with you. Your 
exercises are ours ; our hearts are dissolved in the remem- 
brance of you." 

But though their thoughts turned fondly to England and 
their brethren, they did not repine. They found the coun- 
try good ; " so good," wrote one as early as the 6th of No- 
vember, 1677, " that I do not see how reasonably it can be 
found fault with. The country and air seem very agreeable 
to our bodies, and we have very good stomachs to our 
victuals. Here is plenty of provision, of fish and fowl and 
good venison, not dry, but full of gravy. And I do be- 
lieve that this river of Delaware is as good a river as most 
in the world." " I like the place well," said another, three 
days afterward ; " it's like to be a healthful place and very 
pleasant to live in." A report having spread in England 
that the w^ater and soil were bad, and danger to be feared 
from bears, wolves, rattlesnakes, and Indians — the first, but 
not the last time that Burlington has been slandered — six 
of the leading settlers indignantly deny its truth, declaring 
that " those that cannot be contented with such a country 
and such land as this is are not worthy to come here." "" I 



284 ^^^ SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 

affirm," said one, " that these reports are not true, and fear 
they were spoke from a spirit of envy. It is a country that 
produceth all things for the support and sustenance of man. 
I have seen orchards laden with fruit to admiration ; their 
very limbs torn to pieces with the weiglit, and most deli- 
cious to the taste and lovely to behold. I have seen an 
apple-tree from a yippin kernel yield a barrel of curious 
cyder, and peaches in such plenty that some people took 
their carts a peach gathering. I could not but smile at the 
conceit of it. I have known this summer forty bushels of 
bold wheat from one bushel sown. We have from the time 
called May till Michaelmas great store of very good wild 
fruits — strawberries, cranberries, and whortleberries, very 
wholesome. Of the cranberries, like cherries for color and 
bigness, an excellent sauce is made for venison and turkeys. 
Of these we have great . plenty, and all sorts of fish and 
game. Indeed the country, take it as a wilderness, is a 
most brave country, and," he adds, in words that you may 
make use of to the world yourselves to-day, "whatever 
envy or evil spies may speak of it, I could wish you all 
here."* From the Indians these settlers exjjerienccd little 
trouble. The JNIantas, it is true, who dwelt hard by, had 
committed a murder at Matiniconk and plundered poor 
Jegou some years before the arrival of the Kent, but these 
were exceptional instances. The Leni Lenape were a peaceful 
race. Upright in person and straight of limb, their fierce 
countenances of tawny reddish-brown belied a gentle nature. 
Grave even to sadness, courteous to strangers and respectful 
to the old, never in haste to speak, and of cool, deliberate 
temper, this mysterious people easily forgave injury and 
never forgot kindness — more than repaying the benevolent 

* Smith's History of New Jersey contains these letters. 



THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 285 

humanity of the settlers of Burlington by a forbearing 
friendship that lived as long as they. At the same time at 
which the savages of Virginia were punishing cold-blooded 
murder with passionate bloodshed, and scourging with fury 
every plantation from the Potomac to the James, and on the 
northern sky the light of blazing villages, from one end of 
New England to the other, marked the despairing vengeance 
of King Philip, the banks of Delaware smiled in unbroken 
peace, and their simple-hearted native, conscious of the fate 
that would speedily overtake his people — which no one fore- 
told sooner or more toucliingly than he — was saying in a 
council here in Burlington : '^ We are your brothers, and 
intend to live like brothers with you. We will have a 
broad jmth for you and us to walk in. If an Indian be 
asleep in this path, the Englishman shall pass him by and 
do him no harm ; and if an Englishman be asleep in it, 
the Indian shall pass him by and say : ' He is an English- 
man — he is asleep — let him alone.' The path shall be 
plain ; there shall not be in it a stump to hurt the feet."* 

The soil fertile, the climate healthy, the situation good, 
and the Indian friendly, the little settlement soon became 
a prosperous colony. Ships began to come with emigrants 
from different parts of England. The Willing Mind, from 
London, with sixty passengers; the " Flieboat" Martha, 
from the older Burlington, with one hundred and fourteen ; 
the Shield, from Hull, and several more beside. It is this 

* Smith's History of New Jersey, p. 100, and 136, note ; Bancroft, 
vol. ii. p. 102, et seq.; Idem., p. 216. " When six of the hostile cliief- 
tains pi'esented themselves as messengers to treat of a reconcilia- 
tion, in the hlind fury of the moment they were murdered." This 
was in 1675. The war in Virginia continued more than a year after- 
wards. King Philip's "rebellion" broke out in June, 1675. He 
was killed in August, 1676. 



286 'I'HE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 

last one of which the story is told that tacking too near the 

high shore called " Coaquannock/' her masts caught in an 

overhanging tree, and her passengers, unconscious of the 

Philade]]>hia that was soon to be, were struck by the beauty 

of the site, and spoke of its fitness for a town.* The 

forests were feUed and farms s]>rang up in all directions. 

Ollive's new mill, on the " Mill Creek" that runs into 

Rancocas, was quickly built. The trade with Barbadoes , 

w^as begun by Mahlon Stacy and others as early as the 

winter of 1679-80, whose ^' ketch of fifty tons" met with 

the good fortune their enterprise deserved. By an Act of 

Assembly in the following year, " all vessels bound to the 

province" were " obliged to enter and clear at" its " chief ^ i 

town and head," "the port of Burlington," and at the 

same time two annual fairs were provided for in the market 

street, " for all sorts of cattle and all manner of merchan- .^ 

dise."t But in the bustle of the growing town and the ^*' 

attractions of an opening trade, other things were not for- **■ 

gotten. The first act of the meeting was to provide for 

the collections of money once a month for " ye support of 

ye poor," and the next to consider " selling of rum unto 

Indians," and whether it " be lawful att all for friends 

pfessing truth to be concerned in itt." It has been said 

that the Quaker has never been the friend of education. 

These at least are two honorable truths in the history of 

Burlington: That there, before 1690, William Bradford 

found work and welcome for his printing-press ;| and her 

* Watson's Annals of Philadelphia, vol. i. p. 10. 

t Learning and Spicer's Laws of New Jersey, p. 435; Hazard's 
Annals of Pennsylvania, vol. i. p. 537. 

? My authority for this statement was the following: "At A yearly 
meetinge held at Burlington in west new Jersey the 10th of the 7th 
month 1C90: An Account beinge giucn heere that seuerall particular 



THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 287 

people — before William Peiin had ever set foot on Amer- 
ican soil — commemorated the fifth anniversary of their 
settlement by consecrating "to the use of the public schools" 
the broad acres of jNIatiniconk, and have kept them piously 
devoted to that purpose from that day to this.* 

How fortunate would it have been, my friends of Bur- 
lington, if the spirit had moved one of these early settlers 
to have given posterity a sketch of the daily life of the 

friends haue engaged themselues to raise A considerable sum of 
money for the encouragement of the printer to continue the press 
heere : it is Agreed that it bee recommend to each quarterly meet- 
inge belonging to this meetinge." The Hon. John William Wallace, 
who is an authority on these matters, and lias given especial atten- 
tion to the life of the printer William Bradford {vide his valuable 
Address on the subject in New York in May, 1863), has called my 
attention to the following extract from the Salem Monthly Meeting 
Minute Book No. 1 : '' whereas in the month Called nouember: 1689: 
A gratuity was giuen to William bradford printer that bee should 
continue his press in Philadelphia it being forty pound A yeare fi-om 
and After the date hereof, for Seuen years;" and adds, "on 5th 
mo. 2Gth 1689 Bradford, being then in Philada., gaue notice to 
Friends of his purpose to go to England and got a bene decessit 
accordingly. Now, by the above extract the meeting in 1689 gave 
(actually gave, it would seem) a gratuity to Bradford to 'continue' 
his press in Philadelphia for seven years from that time. We have 
in 1688 and also in 1693 books printed by him in Philadelphia. In 
1690 he established a paper-mill on the Wissahickon. It would 
seem, therefore, that the word ' heere' does not mean here in Bur- 
lington, but here in America, or hereabouts and within the juris- 
diction of the Quakers assembled at Burlington." I agree with 
Mr. Wallace that "this, I fear, hardly makes out the case for our 
dear old town of Burlington ;" but I leave the passage in the text 
to stand as spoken, with this correction in a note. The town was 
not, in all probability, the scene of Bradford's labors, as I thought 
at the time I said so, but the townsfolk are entitled to the credit 
which I claimed for them just the same. 
* Act of Assembly, September 28, 1682. 



288 ^^^ SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 

young colony ! How delightful to have been able to see, as 
with the eye of a contemporary, the infant town ! The 
forest of oak and sassafras, and birch and maple encii'cling 
the island ; the broad main street cut through the clearing, 
and but lately freed from stumps ; the clap-board houses 
beginning to rise on every side ; Samuel Jennings's, on the 
corner of Pearl Street, the new Governor, " a man of both 
spiritual and worldly wisdom, a suppressor of vice and an 
encourager of virtue;"* and Thomas Gardiner's next, 
where the meetings are held till the new place of worship 
can be built. It is at one of these, perhaps, that the 
Labadists dine in 1679, on their way to Tinicum and Up- 
land. " The Quakers," they write, " are a very worldly 
people. On the window we found a co])y of Virgil, as if 
it had been a common hand-book, and Helmont's book on 
medicine !" How pleasant, too, to walk in imagination 
along the bank of the newly-surveyed river lots and admire 
the good ship Shield, as she lies in the stream, moored by 
a long rope to a leaning buttonwoodf that stands by the 
water's edge, or watch yonder canoe as it comes swiftly 
across the river laden with the fat carcass of a noble buck ! 
The village is full of cheery noise, the constant sound of 
the hammer and the saw, and every now and then a crash 
like distant thunder tells of the falling of some giant tree. 
Now, perhaps, a horn blown from Thomas Gardiner's calls 
the town-meeting together, to ajipoint ten men to help lay 
out the town's share of a road through the wilderness to 
Salem, or four of the proprietors to get to work to drain 



* Robert Proud, quoted by Bowden in his History of Friends. 

t Tradition says tliat tliis is the gigantic tree in front of Gov- 
ernor Franklin's house (now torn down) about which the "witches 
used to dance." 



THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 289 

the meadows, or solemnly resolve " that the townfolk meet 
at five o'clock the next morning to go and clear the brush 
upon the island." It may be market day, and here are 
Indians with venison and turkeys and plenty of wild fruit 
for sale; or, yonder on a stump, Ollive, the magistrate, 
holds his rustic court, and, while his neighbors stand rev- 
erently by, dispenses impartial justice. The Sabbath morn- 
ing comes to begin the busy week, and the little town is 
still. The hammer and the saw are laid aside, and the axe 
rests undisturbed against the tree. All is so quiet that the 
rustling of the dead leaves can be heard as they fall through 
the frosty air, and the cawing of the crows as they rise from 
their roost in the distant pines. No sentinel, with leathern 
doublet, his matchlock resting in the hollow of his arm, 
stands guard by yonder house, or watches with suspicious 
eye, his hand upon his cutlass, the curious savage who 
walks unbidden to the door. Within is gathered a little 
company, seated in solemn silence or listening with rapt 
attention as one of their number, with rude but reverent 
manner, and perhaps unlettered speech, talks of the Inner 
Light and of ihe goodness of Him who placed them in the 
wilderness and protects them there. 

A simple anecdote recorded by a descendant, and, until 
now, forgotten for a century, is worthy of remembrance :* 
"Tradition delivers," he says, "that when Thomas Ollive 
acted in the quadruple character of governor, preacher, 
tanner, and miller, a customer asked, ' Well, Thomas, when 
can my corn be ground ?' ' I shall be at the Assembly next 



* My friend Brinton Coxe, Esq., to whom I am under many obli- 
gations for kind and intelligent assistance in gathering materials, 
has given me this, which he found in a MS. note written by R. Smith 
in 1796 on page 573 of his copy of Learning and Spicer. 



290 THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 

Third-day,' replied the good man, ' and I will bring it for 
thee behind nie on my horse.' " Such were your governors 
in those early days! O rara temporum simplicitas ! 

What wonder then tliat the seed planted by those hands 
took root and brought forth fruit an hundred-fold ! What 
wonder that the strong right arm of men like this conquered 
the forest and made the wilderness to bloom ! What won- 
der that as this godly people looked back to those days be- 
yond the stormy sea their hearts were stirred within them 
and they cried : " Blessed be the God of Abraham, of Isaac, 
and of Jacob that has called us not hither in vain !" " He 
was with us and is with us ; yea, he hath made our way for 
us and proved and confirmed to us his word and provi- 
dence !" " The desert sounds ; the wilderness rejoices, a 
visitation outwardly and inwardly is come to America ; 
God is Lord of all the earth and at the setting of the sun 
will his name be famous."* 

My countrymen: Since those words were spoken and 
this town was built two hundred vears have come and o-one. 
The seed that could blossom in the dense thickets of New 
Jersey and find a root among the rocks of Plymouth has 
planted a continent with liberty and law. The light that 
glimmered on the Delaware and lit the cold waves of Boston 
Bay, was but the dawn of that advancing age whose morn- 
ing beams now shine with imj)artial splendor upon all man- 
kind. Your fathers' prayers are granted, and their prophecy 
fulfilled ! Here on the threshold of your history I needs 
must stop. My task is finished, and my duty done. How 
could I hope to tell the story of two centuries? How dear 
old St. Mary's Church was founded in Queen Anne's reign. 

* Letter of Williani Penn and others, 1st month, 1683. Vide 
Bowden's History of Friends, vol. i. p. 20. 



THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 291 

How in colonial days great men as Governors lived in Bur- 
lington ; how Council and Assembly met in the now ran- 
ished court -house, bsfore whose door one day George 
Whitefield preached ; how, in a darker time, the Plessians 
camped in a meadow Ijeyond Yorkshire Bridge ; how the 
Whigs knocked one night at Margaret INIorris's door, and' 
the Tory parson hid trembling in the " anger hole ;" how 
])atriotic gondolas bombarded Burlington, and managed to 
hit a house at Broad and York Streets ; how, in the follow- 
ing year, the British in their turn opened the cannonade, 
and after an hour's fire knocked a hole in Adam Shepherd's 
stable near the wharf; how things were quiet for a little 
while till Light- FTorse Harry Lee came thundering in.* 

And what can I hope to say, in the last moments of so 
long a speech, of the inhabitants of a city whose life has not 
been more peaceful than her sons illustrious. From the 
beginning to the end, in times of the Colony, the Province, 
and State, it has always been the same. Here were the 
famous printers, Bradford the pioneer, and Isaac Collins, 
who published the first Jersey newspa])er.f Here dwelt 

* James Craft's Journal, Hist. Mag., vol. i. p. 300, Boston, 1857: 
" 6th ino. 16th, 1770, Geo. Whitefield, the Great Calvinistic Preacher, 
. preacht before the Court House. Great Audience. Deal of liumor. 
12th mo. 1 1th, 1776, sad work this day. The Hessians came. Town 
fired on by gondolas. Nobody hurt, altho' large and small shot was 
fired plenty and in all directions. 5th mo. 10, 1778. British came 
back (from Bordentown) and what a whipping our poor town got, 
tho' through blessing nobody hurt. Bullets and every kind of shot 
showered down upon us for hours. 12th mo. 16th, 1778, Lee's troop 
of horse at Burlington." For an amusing account of Dr. Odell's 
adventure in the hidden chamber called the "Auger hole," see Dr. 
Hill's excellent History of the Cliurch in Burlington, p. 321. Vide 
Barber and Howe's Historical Collection, pp. 94, 95. 

t Of Bradford I have spoken in an earlier note. Isaac Collins was 
a man of great prominence in the Colony. He was appointed Co- 



M 



292 "THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 

Judge Daniel Coxe, wlio planned a union for the Colonies 
full thirty years ere Franklin thought of it, and half a cen- 
tury before the Revolution.* Here came Elias Boudinot, 
the President of Congress, to pass the evening of his well- 
spent life ; and in the spacious garden of his house some 
of you may have seen his daughter and her friend, those r^ 

venerable women who had borne the names of William h 

Bradford and Alexander Hamilton. f Here, on a Saturday ii 

morning, weary with walking " more than fifty miles," 
clad " in a working dress," his " pockets stuffed out with 
shirts and stockings," a boy of seventeen came trudging 
into town. Nobody noticed him, except to smile perhaps, || 

save an old woman who talked to him kindly and sold him 
o;ino;erbread. Years afterward he came acrain to i)rint the 
money of the Province and become the friend of all the 
great men who dwelt in Burlington, for by that time the 
world had begun to hear of Benjamin Franklin. | Two 

lonial printer in 1770, and issued the first number of tiie N^civ Jersey 
Gazette on December 5, 1777. 

* In the preface to his " Description of Carolana, &c., &c.," pub- .7' 

lished in London in 1722. He was the son of Daniel Coxe, of Lon- 
don, the Proprietary Governor, and was a Judge of the Supreme 
Court. The Coxe family was long prominent in the history of Bur- 
lington and West Jersey. 

f Elias Boudinot was President of Congress in 17S2, and Director 
of the Mint under General Washington's administration. He was 
the first President, and in conjunction with his friend and kinsman 
Mr. Wallace, the originator of the American Bible Society. His 
daughter and only child married the Hon. William Bradford, At- 
torney-General in Washington's cabinet. Alexander Hamilton had 
been a friend in the family of Mr. Boudinot in his boyhood, and the 
colleague of his son-in-law in the cabinet. The friendship between 
the widows of those two reniarkal)le men, both so untimely cut off 
in their prime, continued to the end of their long lives. 

X Bigelow's Franklin's Autobiography, pp. 110 and 1G3. 



THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 293 

other boys belong to Burlington. Born side by side^ be- 
neath adjoining roofs, close to this spot where you are 
gathered now, both became sailors ; but of different desti- 
nies. The elder, after a brief but brilliant life, fell in dis- 
astrous battle on the deck with the immortal cry upon his 
lips of " Don't give uj) the shij) !" The younger lived to 
a green and vigorous old age, to make those Jersey names 
of Fenimore and Coo2)er famous forever in American litera- 
ture !* Count this array of native or adopted citizens : 
Ellis and Stockton and Dutton and Sterling and Woolman 
and the mysterious Tyler; Franklin, the Tory governor, 
and Temple, his accomplished son; Samuel Smith, the his- 
torian, and Samuel J. Smith, the poet; William Coxe, the 
pomologist, and John Griscom, the friend of learning; 
Shippcn and Cole in medicine, and Dean and the Gum- 
meres in education ; Bloomfield and Mcllvaine and Wall 
in politics, and at the bar, Griffith, Wallace, Reed, two gen- 
erations of the Mcllvaines and four of the name of Kinsey, 
and those great masters of the law, Charles Chauncey and 
Horace Binney.t Read the long list of teachers of religion; 

* James Fenimore Cooper in a published letter dated 1844 said : 
" I was born in the last honse but one of the main street of Burling- 
ton as one goes into the country. There are two houses of brick 
stuccoed, built together, the one having five windows in front and 
the other four, the first being the last house in the street. In this 
house dwelt Mr. Lawrence, my old commander. Captain Lawrence's 
father, and in the four-window house my father." 

f Charles Ellis, Samuel Stockton, and Thomas Dutton were prom- 
inent citizens in Burlington half a century ago ; the latter in connec- 
tion with John Griscom, LL.D,, W. R. Allen, and Thomas Milnor, 
was active in founding the Public Schools, and the names of all of 
them are honorably borne in Burlington to-day. James Sterling was 
a famous merchant — his store at the corner of Broad and Main Streets 
was known from Sussex to Cape May. James Hunter Sterling is 



294 '^HE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 

I name tlie dead alone — Grellefc and Cox and Hoskins 
and Mott and Dillwyn among Friends, and in the Churcii 

remembered as the benefactor of the Library, to whom we owe the 
handsome building. Richard Tyler was an accomplished English- 
man of wealth and evidently of rank, who settled in Burlington early 
in this century. There was some mystery about his life which has 
never been solved. It has been conjectured that he was a relative 
of Warren Hastings. John Woolman, the famous Quaker preacher, 
was a Burlington County man, and the name has existed there for 
the past two centuries; the late Burr Woolman and his son Frank- 
lin Woolman, Esq., have both been Surveyor-Generals of AVest Jer- 
sey. Governor William Franklin lived in the large house on the 
bank afterward occupied by Charles Chauncey as a summer resi- 
dence, and torn down in 1873. Ilis son. Temple, lived in elegant 
retirement with his books, and died at Franklin Park on the Kan- 
cocas, about six miles out of town. Samuel Smith, the historian, was 
long Treasurer of the Province. A notice of him has recently appeared 
as a preface to a second edition of his history, published in 1877, and 
an interesting paper on this subject of Samuel J. Smith and his 
writings can be found at page 39 of vol. ix. of the Proceedings of 
the New Jersey Historical Society. Both are by John Jay Smith, 
Esq. Dr. William Coxe was quite famous as a pomologist about the 
beginning of this century, and Griscom's Travels was a noted and 
much read book. Dr. Edward Siiippen lived many years in the house 
occupied for nearly fifty years by the late Joseph Askew in Ellis 
Street at the end of Broad. Dr. Nathaniel W. Cole was an excellent 
citizen and a physician of great skill and experience. James Dean, 
LL.D., Professor of Mathematics in Vermont University ; John Gum- 
mere, the author of works on Astronomy, Surveying, etc., and Samuel 
R. Gummere, of others on Oratory, Geography, etc., are honored 
names in the history of Education. "Guuniiere's schools" had a 
famous reputation foi'ty years ago. Joseph Bioomfield, a soldier of 
the Revolution and long Governor of the State, lived in the large 
house on Main Street known by his name. Joseph Mcllvaine was 
United States Senator in 1820, Garret D. Wall in 1834, and liis son 
James W. Wall in 1800. William Griffith was a most accomplished 
lawyer and stood at the head of the bar. He Avas one of John 
Adams's " Midnight Judges ;" Joshua Maddox Wallace, also at one 



THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 295 

Talbot, the missionary, the witty Odell, tlie venerable 
Wharton, the saintlike Mcllvaine, and that princely prelate 
— the most imposing figure of my boyish memories — 

time Judge of the Pleas of Burlington County, was a very distin- 
guished man, the co-worker of Mr. Boudinot in the Bible Society. 
He was the father of another well-known lawyer, John B. Wallace, 
and the grandfather of two others whose names are prominent in 
American legal literature — John William Wallace, lately the Reporter 
of the United States Supreme Court, and Horace Binney Wallace. 
Bowes Reed was a brother of General Joseph Reed, Washington's 
Aide-de-Camp. Joseph McHvaine, the Senator, was also distinguished 
at the Bar and the father of Bloomfield Mcllvaine, whose early death 
alone prevented his taking the front rank in the yirofession. The 
Kinsey family has been remarkable in the law. John Kinsey, the 
son of the first-comer, was noted in provincial history as a leader of 
the profession ; John Kinsey, his son, was Chief Justice of Pennsyl- 
vania and died in 1750 ; Jauies Kinsey, his grandson, was Chief Jus- 
tice of New Jersey, and the late Charles Kinsey, his great-grandson, 
was an eminent and learned lawyer. Mr. Chauncey and Mr. Binney 
lived for many summers side by side on the bank, the latter at the 
corner of Wood Street, in the house owned by the late Edward B, 
Grubb. 

There are many other names which one might speak of and which 
ought to be remembered ; Samuel Emien, Elihu Chauncey, who lived 
where the College stands to-day, Charles Read, Judge of Admiralty 
before the Revolution, and AndrcAV Allen the grandson of Chief- 
Justice Allen, "a most accomplished man," at one time British 
Consul at Boston, but after 1812 a resident of Burlington, in the 
house where St. Mary's Hall was afterwards erected, were all men 
whose names ought not to be forgotten. Barbaroux and Benoist 
were Frenchmen of family and fortune who settled in Burlington 
after the troubles in San Domingo. Both of these families lived on 
the bank. Juhn Michael ILanckel was the Principal of the Academy : 
" His talents," said Rev. Dr. Wharton in his epitaph, "were of the 
first order." He died at twenty-nine. In an humbler walk in life 
were Thomas Aikman, the Sexton and Undertaker, Ben Shepherd, 
and Captain Jacob Myers of the "Mayflower," a well-known char- 
acter. 



29G ^^^ SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 

whose tongue alone could have done justice to this anni- 
versary !* 

Now as I sj)eak of them under the inspiration of these 
memories I seem to feel the touch of vanished hands and 
hear the sound of voices that are still. Before me rise the 
scenes of other days. I see the brilliant Wall ; tlie rough 
and ready Engle ; the venerable Grellet ; Allen, your Mayor 
for quarter of a century ; the little form, too small for such 
a heart, of William Allinson ; the white head of Thomas 
Milnor; the well-beloved face of Cortlandt Van Rens- 



* John Cox, John Iloskins, Richard Mott, and George Dlllwyn 
were eminent as preachers. Stephen Grellet had an extraordinary 
life; born a nobleman, he escaped from France during the terrors of 
1793 and became a Missionary among Friends. Vide his life, pub- 
lished by Benjamin Seebohn, London. He was a man of excellent 
talents, and great purity and benevolence. Dr. Hill's boL.k, to 
which I have referred before, contains the best account of Talbot, 
Odell, and Wharton. The Rt. Rev. Charles Pettit Mcllvaine, D.D., 
LL.D., D.C.L., Bishop of Ohio, was certainly one of the most distin- 
guished prelates in the Episcopal Church. He was born at the 
northwest corner of Broad and Main Streets. His father, the Sen- 
ator, was a son of Colonel Joseph Mcllvaine of the Revolution; 
His wife was a daughter of Dr. William Coxe. I cannot condense 
into a note any expression which would convey to those who never 
knew him the place which Bishop Doane filled in Burlington between 
1840 and 1859. Riverside was an Episcopal palace, filled always 
with distinguished men from home and abroad, among whom the 
host was an acknowledged chief. Burlington College was in the 
beginning of an apparently flourishing life. St. Mary's Hall was a 
successful institution. St. Marj'^s was the cathedral church of the 
Diocese, and on every occasion, ecclesiastical, collegiate, social, polit- 
ical, on Commencement Day, at Christmas, on the Fourth of July, the 
Bishop was a prominent and attractive figure. I shall never forget 
the wondering admiration with which I used to look at him ; and 
the fascination of his manner — for no one had the gift of charming 
the young more than he — lingers with ine still. 



THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 297 

selaer; and tlie splendid countenance and manly form of 
him — the friend of many here — whose name I dare not trust 
myself to speak ! And you, too — friends of my boyhood's 
days, whom death has crowned with an immortal youth — 
you, young defenders of my country's honor — Grubb, 
Chase, Barclay, Baquet, and Van Rensselaer — on such a 
day as this you, too, shall be remembered!* 

* These names need no explanatory note to-day, but I must not 
forget that a generation is rapidly approaching to whom they will 
seem as shadowy as do to me most of those which I have mentioned 
in the preceding paragraph. James W. Wall, often the candidate 
of his party for Congress and a Senator for a short time in 1860, 
was a man of brilliant talents, a witty poet, a graceful writer, and 
an orator of no little power. Frederick Engle, who died a Rear 
Admiral of the United States Navy, was a gallant and distinguished 
sailor. Of the venerable and excellent Grellet I have already spoken ; 
he lived in Main Street, next the alley called Library Street, opposite 
Governor Bloomfield's. When it was known that perhaps " Friend 
Grellet would preach," there were many of the world's people at 
meeting. I have heard him, and recall a tall slender figure speak- 
ing with strong French accent, and with French rather than Quaker 
warmth and vehemence. William II. Allen was a strong man in every 
sense; he made himself felt in the community in many ways. The 
name of AUinson is honorably remembered. David Allinson was 
a publisher and Samuel a brewer; William J. was a druggist and 
apothecary •, he was active in all that concerned the good of Bur- 
lington, and was a great benefactor of the Library and other institu- 
tions. He had much literary taste, and great antiquarian knowledge 
and zeal. Thomas Milnor was another excellent man, whose name 
should not be forgotten. Of the Rev. Dr. Cortlandt Van Rensselaer 
all Burlingtonians have pleasant memories. His activity in all 
good works outside of his church, of which he may be called the 
founder, as well as in it, endeared him greatly to the community. 
He was a very distinguished minister in the Presbyterian Church, 
and a man of great learning and culture. Frederick Brown of 
Philadelphia built his house called " Summer Home" in 1847, and 
made it his place of refuge from the cares of an active life, as labor- 

20 



298 



THE SETTLEMENT OE BURLINGTON. 



My countrymen : The age that saw the birth of Burling- 
ton has passed away. The passions that raged about her 
cradle have long been dead. The furies of contending 
creeds have been forgotten, and Quaker and Presbyterian, 
Churchman and Catholic, rest in her bosom side by side. 
The twin sycamores by yonder meeting-house stand guard 
above a soil enriched witli the bones of six generations of 
your kindred, and the spire of old St. Mary's springs from 
a doubly consecrated mould. The tree, the ancient church, 
the pleasant field, the flowing river — these shall endure, but 
you shall pass away. The lifeless thing shall live and the 
deathless die. It is God's mystery; we cannot solve it. 

ions as it was singularly useful, until his death in 1864. Here were 
the extensive graperies filled with well-selected vines, the orchards 
of dwarf pears, the rare plants and flowers, and the choice trees in 
which he took such genuine delight and which must ever be asso- 
ciated in his children's minds with the memories of a perfectly happy 

childhood. 

"Ille te mecum Jocus et beatae 
Postulant arces ; ibi tu calentem 
Debita sparges lacrima favillam 
PatHa amici." 



There are other names which ought to be remembered on such 
anniversaries, but those of Isaac Parker Grubb, Richard Chase, 
Mark Wilkes Collet Barclay, Francis Baquet, and Cortlaiidt Van 
Kensselaer, Jr., I love especially to recall. They all died in the 
active service of their country during the Rebellion. Three of 
them " with their bodies bore the brunt of battle, and after a short 
and quickly decided crisis of tlieir fate, at the height of glory, not 
of fear, yielded up their lives !" Of all it is true that, in those other 
words of Pericles, "they laid down their bodies and their lives for 
their country, and therefore as their private reward they receive a 
deathless fame and the noblest of sepulchres, not so much that in 
which their bones are entombed as that in which their glory is pre- 
served to be had in eveidasting remembrance on all occasions, whether 
of speech or action." 



THE SETTLEMENT OF BURLINGTON. 299 

That change that has come to all must come to you — and 
long before this story shall be told again, you will have fol- 
lowed the footsteps of your fathers. But still on the banks 
of Delaware shall stand your ancient town. Time shall 
not harm her nor age destroy the beauty of her face. 
Wealth may not come to her, nor power, nor fame among 
the cities of the earth ; but civil freedom and liberty of 
conscience are now her children's birthright, and she rests 
content. Happy, indeed, if they can exclaim, with each 
recurring anniversary, as their fathers did two hundred 
years ago : " We are a family at peace within ourselves !"* 

* Wrote William Penn and others in the 1st month (March), 1683 : 
"Dear friends and brethren, we have no cause to murmur; our lot 
is fiillen every vray in a good place, and the Son of God is among 
us. We are a family at peace within ourselves, and truly great is 
our joy therefore." I add an amusing quotation from old Gabriel 
Thomas. Writing in 1698 he says: "Of Laioyers and Physicians 
I shall say nothing, because this Country is very Peaceable and 
Healthy ; long may it so continue and never have occasion for the 
Tongue of the one, nor the Pen of the other, both equally destruc- 
tive to Men's Estates and Lives ; besides forsooth they, Ilang-Man 
like, have a License to Murder and Make Mischief." 



p 



¥ 



ORATION 



AT 



VALLEY FORGE, 



June 19, 1878, 



THE ONE HUNDKEDTH ANNIVERSAEY OF THE DE- 

PAETUKE OF THE AEMY OF THE EEVOLUTION 

FEOM WINTEE QUAETEES AT THAT PLACE. 



i 






ORATION. 



It is an honor to be here to-daj. It is a privilege to 
behold this anniversary. This unusual spectacle, tliese 
solemn services, these flags and decorations, this tuneful 
choir, this military array, this distinguished company, this 
multitude darkening all the hillside, proclaim the general 
interest and attest its magnitude. And it is proper to 
commemorate this time. One hundred vears ag-o this 
country was the scene of extraordinary events and very 
honorable actions. We feel the influence of them in our 
institutions and our daily lives, and it is both natural and 
right for us to seek, by some means, to mark their hun- 
dredth anniversaries. Those moments are passing quickly. 
Lexinf>;ton, Bunker Hill, Germantown, Sarat02;a, have o-oue 
by already. Monmouth, Stony Point, Eutaw, and York- 
town are close at hand. It is eminently fit that we should 
gather here. 

I cannot add to what has already been said about this 
place. The deeds which have made it famous have jiassed 
into history. The page on which they are recorded is 
written. We can neither add' to it nor take away. The 
heroic dead who suffered here are far beyond our reach. 
No human eulogy can make their gh)ry greater, no failure 
to do them justice make it less. Theirs is a perfect fame 
— safe, certain, and complete. Their trials here secured 
the happiness of a continent; their labors have borne fruit 

303 



304 VALLEY FORGE. 

in the free institutions of a powerful nation ; their examples 
give hope to every race and dime; their names live on the 
lips of a grateful people; their memory is cherished in 
their children's hearts and shall endure forever. It is not 
for their sakes then, but for our own, that we have assem- 
bled here to-day. This anniversary, if I understand it 
right, has a purpose of its own. It is duty that has brought 
us here. The spirit appropriate to this hour is one of 
humility rather than of pride, of reverence ratlier than of 
exultation. We come, it is true, the representatives of 
forty millions of free men by ways our fathers never * 

dreamed of, from regions of which they never heard. We 
come in the midst of plenty, under a sky of peace, power 
in our right hand and the keys of knowledge in our left. 
But we are here to learn rather than to teach ; to worship, 
not to glorify. We come to contemplate the sources of our 
country's greatness; to commune with the honored past; 
to remind ourselves, and show our children that Joy can 
come out of Sorrow, Ha])piness out of Suffering, Light out 
of Darkness, Life out of Death. 

Such is the meaning of this anniversary. I cannot do 
it justice. Would that there could come to some one in 
this multitude a tongue of fire — an inspiration born of the 
time itself, that, standing in this place and speaking with 
the voice of olden time, he might tell us in fitting language 
of our fathers ! But it cannot be. Not even now — not 
even here. Perhaps we do not need it. Some of us bear 
their blood, and all alike enjoy the happiness their valor 
and endurance won. And if my voice be feeble, we have 
but to look around. The hills that saw them suffer look 
down on us; the ground that thrilled beneath their feet we 
tread to-day ; their unmarked graves still lie in yonder 
field ; the breastworks which they built to shelter them 



VALLEy FOROE. 305 

surround us here ! Dumb witnesses of the heroic past, ye 
need no tongues ! Face to face with you we see it all : — 
this soft breeze changes to an icy blast; these trees drop 
the glory of the summer, and the earth beneath our feet is 
wrapped in snow. Beside us is a village of log huts — 
along that ridge smoulder the fires of a camp. The sun 
has sunk, the stars glitter in the inky sky, the camp is 
hushed, the fires are out, the night is still. All are in 
slumber save when a lamp glimmers in a cottage window, 
and a passing shadow shows a tall figure pacing to and fro. 
The cold silence is unbroken save when on yonder rampart, 
crunching the crisp snow with wounded feet, a ragged 
sentinel keeps watch for Liberty ! 

The close of 1777 marked the gloomiest period of the 
Revolution. The early enthusiasm of the struggle had 
passed away. The doubts which the first excitements 
banished had returned. The novelty of war had gone, and 
its terrors become awfully familiar. Fire and sword had 
devastated some of the best parts of the country, its cities 
were half ruined, its fields laid waste, its resources drained, 
its best blood poured out in sacrifice. The struggle now had 
become one of endurance, and while Liberty and Independ- 
ence seemed as far off as ever, men began to appreciate the 
tremendous cost at which they were to be purchased. The 
capture of Burgoyne had, after all, been only a temporary 
check to a powerful and still unexhausted enemy.* Nor 

* Such at least was the opinion of Lafayette (Memoirs, vol. i. pp. 34 
and 35). A friend to whom Mr. Brown read this oration, pointed out 
the fact that the capture of Bur^oyne's army had been considered 
by all the latest and most accurate historians as the undoubted turn- 
ing-point of the war, and that Creasy had included the battle of 
Behmus's Heights in the fifteen decisive battles of the tvorld. Mr. 
Brown said that although it had undoubtedly proved so, he felt 



306 VALLEV FORGE. 

\vas its effect on the Americans themselves wholly beneficial. 
It had caused the North to relax, in a great measure, its 
activity and vigilance, and, combined with the immunity 
from invasion which the South had enjoyed, "to lull asleep 
two-thirds of the continent." While a few hundred ill- 
armed, half-clad Americans guarded the Highlands of the 
Hudson, a well-equipped garrison, several thousand strong, 
lived in luxury in the city of New York.* The British 
fleet watched with the eyes of Argus the rebel coast. 
Rhode Island lay undisputed in their hands ; Georgia, 
Virginia, and the Carol inas were open to their invasion, 
and as incapable of defence as Maryland had been when 
they landed in the Chesapeake. Drawn upon for the army, 
the sparse population could not half till the soil, and the 
savings of laborious years had all been spent. While the 
miserable paper currency which Congress, with a fatal folly 
never to be absent from the counsels of men, continued to 
issue and call money, obeyed natural rather than artificial 
laws and fell four hundred per cent., coin flowed to Phila- 
delphia and New York, and in spite of military orders and 
civil edicts, the scanty produce of the country followed it. 
Nor could the threatened penalty of death restrain the evil. 
Want began to be widely felt, and the frequent proclama- 
tions of the British, accompanied with Tory intrigue and 
abundant gold, to have effect. To some, even of the wisest, 

that in picturing the feeling of the day he was justified in using the 
impression left on the mind of so distinguished an actor as Lafay- 
ette ; but that, when the oration was printed, he would add a note 
that would protect him from any criticism prompted by the suppo- 
sition, that biased by local prejudice, he had spoken lightly of a 
brilliant event which occurred in a neighboring State, in order to 
give prominence to the trials of Valley Forge. — Ed. 
* Vide Lafayette's Memoirs, vol. i. pp. 34 and 35. 



VALLEV FORGE. 307 

the case was desperate. Even the elements seemed to com- 
bine against the cause. A dehige prevented a battle at the 
Warren Tavern ; a fog robbed Washington of victory at 
Germantown ; and at last, while the fate of America hung 
on the courage, the fortitude, and the patriotism of eleven 
thousand half-clothed, half-armed, hungry Continentals, 
who, discomforted but not discouraged, beaten but not dis- 
heartened, suffering but steadfast still, lay on their firelocks 
on the frozen ridges of Whitemarsh, a British army, nine- 
teen thousand five hundred strong, of veteran troops, per- 
fectly equipped, freshly recruited from Europe, and flushed 
with recent victory, marched into winter quarters in the 
chief city of the nation. 

Philadelphia surely had never seen such gloomy days as 
those which preceded the entry of the British. On the 
24th of August the American army marched through the 
length of Front Street;* on the 25th the British landed at 
the Head of Elk. Days of quiet anxiety ensued. On 
the 11th of September, as Tom Paine was writing a letter 
to Dr. Franklin, the sound of cannon in the southwest in- 
terrupted him.f From morning until late in the afternoon 
people in the streets listened to the dull sound like distant 
thunder.| About six o'clock it died away, and the straining 
ear could catch nothino; but the soughing of the wind. 
With what anxiety men waited — with what suspense ! 
The sun sank in the west, and the shadows crept over the 
little city. It was the universal hour for the evening meal, 
but who could go home to eat ? Men gathered about the 
State House to talk, to conjecture, to consult together, and 

* Saffell's Records of the Revolutionary War, p. 333. 

f Pennsylvania Magazine, vol. ii. p. 283. 

J Watson's Annals of Philadelphia, vol. ii. p. 283, 



308 VALLEV FORGE. 

the women whispered in little groups at the doorsteps, and 
craned their necks out of the darkened windows to look 
nervously up and down the street. About eight o'clock 
there was a little tumult near the Coffee House. The story- 
spread that Washington had gained a victory,* and a few 
lads set up a cheer. But it was not traced to good authority, 
and disappointment followed. By nine in the evening the 
suspense was painful. Suddenly, far up Chestnut Street, 
was heard the clatter of horses' feet. Some one was gal- 
loping hard. Down Chestnut like an arrow came at full 
speed a single horseman. He had ridden fast, and his 
horse was splashed with foam. Hearts beat quickly as 
he dashed by; past Sixth Street, past the State House, 
past Fifth, and round the corner into Fourth. The crowd 
followed, and instantly packed around him as he drew rein 
at the Indian Queen. f He threw a glance at the earnest 
faces that were turned toward his, and spoke : " A battle 
has been fought at the Birmingham Meeting-House, on 
the Brandy wine ; the army has been beaten ; the French 
Marquis Lafayette shot through the leg. His Excellency 
has fallen back to Chester ; the road below is full of 
stragglers." And then the crowd scattered, each one to 
his home, but not to sleep. A few days followed full of 
contradictory stories. The armies are manoeuvring on the 
Lancaster Road. Surely Washington will fight another 
battle. And then the news came and spread like lightning 
— Wayne has been surprised and his brigade massacred 
at the Paoli, and the enemy are in full march for Phila- 
delphia ; the Whigs are leaving by hundreds ; the author- 
ities are going ; the Congress have gone ; the British have 



* Irving's Washington, vol. iii. p. 202. 
f Watson's Annals, vol. ii. p. 283. 



VALLEY FORGE. 309 

arrived at Germantown.* Who can forget the day that 
followed ? 

A sense of something dreadful about to happen hangs 
over the town. A third of the houses are shut and empty. 
Shops are unopened, and busy rumor flies about the streets. 
Early in the morning the sidewalks are filled with a quiet, 
anxious crowd. The women watch behind bowed Avindows 
with half curious, half frightened looks. The men, solemn 
and subdued, whisper in groups : "Will they come to-day?" 
" Are they here already ?" " Will they treat us like a con- 
quered people?" It was inevitable since the hot-bloods 
would have war. Sometimes the Tory can be detected by 
an exultant look, but the general sentiment is gloomy.f 
The morning drags along. By ten o'clock Second Street 
from Callowhill to Chestnut, is filled with old men and 
boys. There is hardly a young man to be seen. About 
eleven! is heard the sound of approaching cavalry, and a 
squadron of dragoons comes galloping down the street, 
scattering the boys right and left. The crowd parts to let 
them by, and melts together again. In a few minutes far 
up the street there is the faint sound of martial music and 
something moving that glitters in the sunlight. The crowd 
thickens, and is full of hushed expectation. Presently one 
can see a red mass swaying to and fro. It becomes more 
and more distinct. Louder grows the music and the tramp 
of marching men, as waves of scarlet, tipped with steel, 
come moving down the street. They are now but a square 
off — their bayonets glancing in perfect line, and steadily 
advancing to the music of " God Save the King."§ 

* Miller's Diary, given in Watson's Annals, vol. ii. p. 68. 
t Morton's Diary, Pennsylvania Magazine, vol. i. p. 8. 
t Ibid., p. 7. 
^ Reed's Life of Reed, vol. i. p. 315. 



310 VALLEY FORGE. 

These are the famous grenadiers. Their pointed caps of 
red, fronted with silver, their white leather leggins and 
short scarlet coats, trimmed with blue, make a magnificent 
display. They are perfectly equipped and look well fed 
and hearty.* Behind them are more cavalry. No, these 
must be officers. The first one is splendidly mounted and 
wears the uniform of a general. He is a stout man with 
gray hair and a pleasant countenance,t in spite of the squint 
of an eye which disfigures it. A whisper goes through the 
bystanders : " It is Lord Cornwallis himself." A brilliant 
staff in various uniforms follows him, and fiv^e men in 
civilian's dress. A glance of recognition follows these last 
like a wave along the street, for they are Joseph Galloway, 
Enoch Story, Tench Coxe, and the two Aliens — father and 
son — Tories, who have only dared to return home behind 
British bayonets. J Long lines of red coats follow till the 
Fourth, the Fortieth, and the Fifty-fifth regiments have 
passed by. But who are these in dark blue that come be- 
hind tiic grenadiers? Breeches of yellow leather, leggins 
of black, and tall, pointed hats of brass, complete their uni- 
form. They wear moustaches and have a fierce foreign 
look, and their unfamiliar music seems to a child in that 
crowd to cry " Plunder ! plunder ! plunder !" as it times > 

their rapid march. § These are the Hessian mercenaries 
whom Washington surprised and thrashed so well at 
Christmas in '76. And now Grenadiers and Yagers, horse, 
foot, and artillery that rumbles along making the windows 

* Watson's Annals, vol. ii. p. 284. f Ibid., p. 289. 

J It lias been said that with others Tench Coxe went out to meet 
Howe to ask him to protect the city. His conduct, liowever, was 
such that he was attainted of treason, and it is also true that he 
surrendered himself and was acquitted. — Ed. 

§ Watson's Annals, vol. ii. p. 283. 



VALLEF FORGE. 311 

rattle, have all passed by. The Fifteenth Regiment is 
drawn up on High Street, near Fifth ; the Forty-second 
Highlanders in Chestnut, below Third, and the artillery is 
parked in the State House yard.* All the afternoon the 
streets are full — wagons with luggage lumbering along, 
officers in scarlet riding to and fro, aids and orderlies seek- 
ing quarters for their diflPerent officers. Yonder swarthy, 
haughty-looking man, dismounting at Norris's door, is my 
Lord Rawdon. Lord Cornwallis is quartered at Peter 
Reeve's in Second, near Spruce, and Knyphauscn at 
Henry Lisle's, nearer to Dock Street, on the east. The 
younger officers are well bestowed, for Dr. Franklin's 
house has been taken by a certain clever Captain Andre.f 
The time for the evening parade comes, and the well- 
equipped regiments are drawn up in line, while slowly to 
the strains of martial music the sun sinks in autumnal 
splendor in the west. The streets are soon in shadow, but 
still noisy with the tramping of soldiers and the clatter of 
arms. In High Street, and on the commons, fires are lit 
for the troops to do their cooking, and the noises of the 
camp mingle with the city's hum. Most of the houses are 
shut, but here and there one stands wide 0j)en, while bril- 
liantly-dressed officers lounge at the windows or pass and 
repass in the doorway. The sound of laughter and music 
is heard and the brightly-lit windows of the London Coffee 
House and the Indian Queen tell of the parties that are 
celebrating there the event they think so glorious ; and thus, 
amid sounds of revelry, the night falls on the Quaker City. 
In spite of Trenton and Princeton and Brandy wine; in 
spite of the wisdom of Congress and the courage and skill 
of the commander-in-chief; in spite of the bravery and 

* Watson's Annals, vol. ii. p. 287. f H^i'l-i P- -^9- 



312 VALLEV FORGE. 

fortitude of the Continental army, the forces of the king 
are in the Rebel capital, and the "all's well" of hostile 
sentinels keeping guard by her northern border passes 
unchallenged from the Schuylkill to the Delaware. 

What matters it to Sir William Howe and his victorious 
army if rebels be starving and their ragged currency be 
almost worthless ? Here is gold and plenty of good cheer. 
What, whether they threaten to attack the British lines or 
disperse through the impoverished country in search of 
food ? The ten redoubts that stretch from Fairmount to 
Cohocsink Creek are stout and strongly manned, the river 
is open, and supplies and reinforcements are on the way 
from England. What if the earth be wrinkled with frost? 
The houses of Philadelphia are snug and warm. What if 
the rigorous winter have begun and snow be whitening the 
hills? Here are mirth and music, and dancing and wine, 
and women and play, and the pageants of a riotous capital ! 
And so with feasting and with revelry let the winter wear 
away ! 

The wind is cold and piercing on the old Gulf Road, and 
the snow-flakes have begun to fall. Who is this that toils 
up yonder hill, his footsteps stained with blood ? " His 
bare feet peep through his worn-out shoes, his legs nearly 
naked from the tattered remains of an only pair of stock- 
ings, his breeches not enough to cover his nakedness, his 
shirt hanging in strings, his hair dishevelled, his face wan 
and thin, his look hungry, his whole appearance that of a 
man forsaken and neglected."* On his shoulder he carries 
a rusty gun,f and the hand that grasps the stock is blue with 



* Diary of Albigence Waldo, kept at Valley Forge. Historical 
Magazine, vol. v. p. 131. 

t Kapp's Life of Steuben, p. 117. 



VALLEV FORGE. 313 

cold. TTis comrade is no better off, nor he who follows, for 
both are barefoot, and the ruts of the rough country road 
are deep and frozen hard. A fourth comes into view, and 
still another. A dozen are in sight. Twenty have reached 
the ridge, and there are more to come. See them as they 
mount the hill that slopes eastward into the Great Valley. 
A thousand are in sight, but they are but the vanguard of 
the motley company that winds down the road until it is 
lost in the cloud of snow-flakes that have hidden the Gulf 
hills. Yonder are horsemen in tattered uniforms, and be- 
hind them cannon lumbering slowly over the frozen road, 
half dragged, half pushed by men. They who appear to 
be in authority have coats of every make and color. Here 
is one in a faded blue, faced with buckskin that has once 
been buff. There is another on a tall, gaunt horse, wrapped 
" in a sort of dressing-gown made of an old blanket or 
woollen bed cover."* A few of the men wear long linen 
hunting shirts reaching to the knee, but of the rest no two 
are dressed alike — not half have shirts, a third are barefoot, 
many are in rags.f Nor are their arms the same. Cow- 
horns and tin boxes they carry for want of pouches. A 
few have swords, fewer still bayonets.| Muskets, carbines, 
fowling-pieces, and rifles are to be seen together side by side. 
Are these soldiers that huddle together and bow their 
heads as they face tlie biting wind ? Is this an army that 
comes straggling through the valley in the blinding snow ? 
No martial music leads them in triumph into a captured 
capital. No city full of good cheer and warm and comfort- 
able homes awaits their coming. No sound keeps time to 
their steps save the icy wind rattling the leafless branches 

* Kapp's Life of Steuben, p. 118. 
t Memoirs of Lafayette, vol. i. p. 19. 
X Life of Steuben, p. 118. 
21 



;314 VALLEY FORGE. 

and tlie dull tread of their weary feet on the frozen ground. 
In yonder forest must they find their shelter, and on the 
northern slope of these inhospitable hills their place of 
refuge. Perils shall soon assault them more threatening 
than any they encountered under the windows of Chew's 
house or by the banks of Brandywine. Trials that rarely 
have failed to break the fortitude of men await them here. 
False friends sliall endeavor to undermine their virtue and 
secret enemies to shake their faith ; the Congress whom 
they serve shall prove helpless to protect them, and their 
country herself seem unmindful of their sufferings ; Cold 
shall share their habitations, and Hunger enter in and be 
their constant guest; Disease shall infest their huts by day, 
and Famine stand guard with them through the night; Frost 
shall lock their camp with icy fetters, and the snows cover 
it as with a garment ; the storms of winter shall be pitiless 
— but all in vain. Danger shall not frighten nor tempta- 
tion have power to seduce them. Doubt shall not shake 
their love of country nor suffering overcome their fortitude. 
The powers of evil shall not prevail against them, for they 
are the Continental Army, and these are the hills of Valley 
Forge ! 

It is not easy to-day to imagine this country as it appeared 
a century ago. Yonder city, which now contains one-fourth 
as many inhabitants as were found in those days between 
Maine and Georgia, was a town of but thirty thousand men, 
and at the same time the chief city of the continent. The 
richness of the soil around it had early attracted settlers, 
and the farmers of the Great Valley had begun to make that 
country the garden which it is to-day ; but from the top of 
this hill one could still behold the wilderness under cover 
of which, but twenty years before, the Indian had spread 
havoc throuo-h the back settlements on the Lehigh and the 



VALLEY FORGE. 315 

Susquehanna. The most important place between the Latter 
river and the site of Fort Pitt, "at the junction of the 
Ohio," was the frontier village of York, where Congress 
had taken refuge. The single road which connected Phila- 
delphia with the Western country had been cut through the 
forest to Harris's Block House but forty years before. It 
was half a century only since its iron ore had led to the 
settlement of Lancaster, and little more than a quarter since 
a single house had marked the site of Reading. The ruins 
of Colonel Bull's plantation, burned by the British on their 
march, lay in solitude on the hills which are covered to-day 
with the roofs and spires of Norristown ;* and where yonder 
cloud hangs over the furnaces and foundries of Phcenix- 
ville, a man named Gordon, living in a cave, gave his name 
to a crossing of the river.f Nor was this spot itself the 
same. A few small houses clustered about Potts's Forge, 
where the creek tumbled into the Schuylkill, and two or 
three near the river bank marked the beginning of a little 
farm. The axe had cleared much of the bottom lands and 
fertile fields of the Great Valley, but these hills were still 
wrapped in forest that covered their sides as far as the eye 
could reach. The roads that ascended their rido^e on the 
south and east plunged into densest woods as they climbed 
the hill, and met beneath its shadow at tlie same spot where 
to-day a school-house stands in the midst of smiling fields. 
It is no wonder that the Baron De Kalb, as he gazed on 
the forest of oak and chestnut that covered the sides and 
summit of Mount Joy, should have described the place 
bitterly as " a Avilderness."| 

* Historical Collections of Pennsylvania, by Sherman Day, p. 499. 

t Annals of Phoenixville, by S. W. Pennypacker, p. 174. 

X Life of General Baron De Kalb, by Frederick Kapp, p, 128. 



316 VALLEY FORGE. 

But nevertheless it was well chosen. There was no town 
that would answer. Wilmington and Trenton would have 
afforded shelter, but in the one the army would have been 
useless, and in the other in constant danger. Reading and 
Lancaster were so distant tliat the choice of either would 
liave left a large district open to the enemy, and both, in 
which were valuable stores, could be better covered by an 
army here. Equally distant with Philadelphia from the 
fords of Brandy wine and the ferry into Jersey, the army 
could move to either point as rapidly as the British them- 
selves, and while distant enough from the city to be safe 
from surprise or sudden attack itself, it could protect the 
country that lay between, and at the same time be a constant 
menace to the capital. Strategically, then, the General could 
not have chosen better. And the place was well adapted 
for the purpose. The Schuylkill, flowing from the Blue 
Hills, bent here toward the eastward. Its current was 
rapid, and its banks precipitous. The Valley Creek, cut- 
ting its way through a deep defile at right angles to the 
river, formed a natural boundary on the west. The hill 
called Mount Joy, at the entrance of that defile, threw out 
a spur which, running parallel to the river about a mile, 
turned at length northward and met its banks. On the one 
side tills ridge enclosed a rolling table land; on the other it 
sloped sharply to the Great Valley. The engineers under 
Du Portail marked out a line of entrenchments four feet 
high, protected by a ditch six feet wide, from the entrance of 
the Valley Creek defile, along the crest of this ridge until 
it joined the bank of the Schuylkill, where a redoubt marked 
the ciistern angle of the encampment. High on the shoulder 
of Mount Joy a second line girdled the mountain, and then 
ran northward to the river, broken only by the hollow 
through Avhich the Gulf Road descended to the Forge. 



VALLEY FORGE. 317 

This hollow place was later defended by an abattis and a 
triangular earthwork. 

A redoubt on the east side of Mount Joy commanded 
the Valley road, and another behind the left flank of the 
abattis, that which came from the river, while a star redoubt 
on a hill at the bank acted as a tete-de-pont for the bridge 
that Avas thrown across the Schuylkill. Behind the front 
and before the second line the troops were ordered to build 
huts for winter quarters. Fourteen feet by sixteen, of logs 
plastered with clay,* these huts began to rise on every side. 
Placed in ro\vs, each brigade by itself, they soon gave the 
camp the appearance of a little city. All day long the axe 
resounded among the hills, and the place was filled with the 
noise of hammering and the crash of falling trees. " I 
was there when the army first began to build huts," wrote 
Paine to Franklin. " They appeared to me like a family 
of beavers, every one busy ; some carrying logs, others 
mud, and the rest plastering them together. The whole 
was raised in a few days, and it is a curious collection of 
buildings in the true rustic order."f The weather soon 
became intensely cold. Tlie Schuylkill froze over, and 
the roads were blocked with snow, but it was not until 
nearly the middle of January that the last hut was built 
and the army settled down into winter quarters on the bare 
hillsides. Lono; before that its sufferings had begun. 

The trials which have made this place so famous arose 
chiefly from the incapacity of Congress. It is true that 
the country in the neighborhood of Philadelphia was well- 
nigh exhausted. An active campaign over a small extent 
of territory had drawn heavily on the resources of this part 

* Sparks's Writings of Washington, vol. v. p. 525. 
t Pennsylvania Magazine, vol. ii. p. 294. 



318 VALLEV FORGE. 

of Pennsylvania and the adjacent Jersey. Both forces had 
fed upon the country, and it was not so much disaifection 
(of which Washington wrote) as utter exhaustion which 
made the farmers of the devastated region furnish so little 
to the army. Nor would it have been human nature in 
them to have preferred the badly printed, often counter- 
feited, depreciated promise to pay, of the Americans, for the 
gold which the British had to offer. In spite of the efforts 
of McLane's and Lee's Light Horse and the activity of 
Lacey, of the militia, the few supplies that w^ere left went 
steadily to Philadelphia, and the patriot army remained in 
want. But the more distant States, north and south, could 
easily have fed and clothed a much more numerous army. 
That they did not was the fault of Congress. That body 
no longer contained the men who had made it famous in 
the years gone by. Franklin was in Paris, where John 
Adams was about to join him. Jay, Jefferson, Rutledge, 
Livingston, and Henry were employed at home. Hancock 
had resigned. Samuel Adams was absent in New England. 
Men much their inferiors had taken their places.* 

The period, inevitable in the history of revolutions, had 
arrived, when men of the second rank came to the front. 
With the early leaders in the struggle had disappeared the 
foresight, the breadth of view, the loftiness of purpose, and 
the self-sacrificing spirit belonging only to great minds 
which had marked and honored the commencement of the 
struggle. A smaller mind had begun to rule, a narrower 
view to influence, a personal feeling to animate the members.f 
Driven from Philadelphia, they were in a measure disheart- 

* P. S. Duponceau, quoted in Kapp's Steuben, p. 100. 

f These views are expressed in Hamilton's letter to Clinton, Feb- 
ruary 7, 1778. Vide History of the llepublic of the United States, 
vol. i. p. 422. 



VALLEV FORGE. 319 

ened, and their pride touched in a tender spot. Incapable 
of the loftier sentiments which had moved their predeces- 
sors, they could not overcome a sense of their own impor- 
tance and the desire to magnify their office. Petty rivalries 
had sprung up among them, and sectional feeling, smothered 
in '74, '75, and '76, had taken breath again, and asserted 
itself with renewed vigor in the recent debates on the con- 
federation. But if divided among themselves by petty 
jealousies, they were united in a greater jealousy of Wash- 
ington and the army. They cannot be wholly blamed for 
this. Taught by history no less than by their own experi- 
ence, of the dangers of standing armies in a free State, and 
wanting in modern history the single example which we 
have in Washington of a successful military chief retiring 
voluntarily into private life, they judged the leader of their 
forces by themselves and the ordinary rules of human na- 
ture. Their distrust was not unnatural nor wholly selfish, 
and must find some justification in the exceptional greatness 
of his character. 

It was in vain that he called on them to dismiss their 
doubts and trust an army which had proved faithful.* In 
vain he urged them to let their patriotism embrace, as his 
had learned to do, the whole country with an equal fervor. 
In vain he pointed out that want of organization in the 
army was due to want of union among them. They con- 
tinued distrustful and unconvinced. In vain he asked for 
a single army, one and homogeneous. Congress insisted 
on thirteen distinct armies, each under the control of its 
particular State. The effect was disastrous. The personnel 
of the army was continually changing. Each State had its 
own rules, its own system of organization, its own plan of 

* Sparks's Writings of Washington, vol. v. p. 328. 



320 VALLEF FORGE. 

making enlistments. No two worked together — the men's 
terms even expiring at the most delicate and critical times. 
Promotion was irregular and uncertain, and the sense of 
duty was impaired as that of responsibility grew less. 
Instead of an organized army, Washington commanded a 
disorganized mob. The extraordinary virtues of that great 
man might keep the men together, but there were some 
things which they could not do. Without an organized 
quartermaster's department the men could not be clothed 
or fed. At first mismanaged, this department became neg- 
lected. The warnings of Washington were disregarded, 
his appeals in vain. The troops began to want clothing 
soon after Brandywine. By November it was evident that 
they must keep the field without blankets, overcoats, or 
tents. At Whitemarsh they lay, half clad, on frozen 
ground. By the middle of December they were in want 
of the necessaries of life. 

" W^e are ordered to march over the river," writes Dr. 
Waldo, of Colonel Prentice's Connecticut Regiment, at 
Swede's Ford, on December 12. " It snows — I'm sick — eat 
nothing — no whiskey — no baggage — Lord — Lord — Lord ! 
. . . Till sunrise crossing the river, . . . cold and uncom- 
fortable."* " I'm sick," he goes on two days after, in his 
diary, " discontented and out of humor. Poor food — hard 
lodging — cold weather — fatigued — nasty clothes — nasty 
cookery . . . smoked out of my senses ... I can't endure it. 
. . . Here comes a bowl of soup, . . . sickish enough to make 
a Hector ill. Away with it, boy — I'll live like the chame- 
leon, on air."t On the 19th of December they reached 
Valley Forge. By the 21st even such a bowl of soup had 
become a luxury. " A general cry," notes Waldo again, 

* Historical Magazine, vol. v. p. 131. f Ibid. 



VALLEV FORGE. 321 

" through the camp this evening : . . . ' No meat, no meat.' 
The distant vales echoed back the melancholy sound : ' No 
meat, no meat.' "* It was literally true. On the next day 
Washintiton wrote to the President of Cono-ress : "I do 
not know from what cause this alarming deficiency, or 
rather total failure of supplies, arises, but unless more vig- 
orous exertions and better regulations take place in that line 
immediately this army must dissolve. I have done all in 
my power by remonstrating, by writing, by ordering the 
commissaries on this head, from time to time ; but without 
any good effect, or obtaining more than a present scanty 
relief. Owing to this the march of the army has been de- 
layed on more than one interesting occasion in the course of 
the present campaign ; and had a body of the enemy crossed 
the Schuylkill this morning (as I had reason to expect from 
the intelligence I received at four o'clock last night), the 
divisions which I ordered to be in readiness to march and 
meet them could not have moved."t Hardly was this 
written when the news did come that the enemy had come 
out to Darby, and the troops were ordered under arms. 
" Fighting," responded General Huntington when he got 
the order, " will be far preferable to starving. My brigade 
is out of provisions, nor can the commissary obtain any 
meat."| " Three days successively," added Varnum, of 
Rhode Island, " we have been destitute of bread, two days 
we have been entirely without meat."§ It was impossible 
to stir. And " this," wrote Washington, in indignation, 
brought forth the only commissary in camp, " and with him 
this melancholy and alarming truth that he had not a single 

* Historical Magazine, vol. v. p. 132. 

f Sparks's Writings of Washington, vol. v. p. 193. 

X Ibid., foot-note. ^ Ibid., foot-note. 



322 VALLEV FORGE. 

hoof to slaughter, and not more than twenty-five barrels of 
flour."* " I ara now convhiced beyond a doubt that unless 
some great and capital change suddenly takes place in that 
line this army must inevitably be reduced to one or other 
of these three things — starve, dissolve, or disperse, in order 
to obtain subsistence."t 

But no change was destined to take place for many suf- 
fering weeks to come. The cold grew more and more in- 
tense, and provisions scarcer every day. Soon all were alike 
in want. " The colonels were often reduced to two rations 
and sometimes even to one. The army frequently re- 
mained whole days without provisions," is the testimony of 
Lafayette.^ " AVe have lately been in an alarming state for 
want of provisions," says Colonel Laurens, on the 17tli of 
February.§ " The army has been in great distress since you 
left," wrote Greene to Knox nine days afterwards ; " the 
troops are getting naked. They were seven days without 
meat, and several days without bread. . . . We are still 
in danger of starving. Hundreds of horses have already 
starved to death. "1| The painful testimony is full and un- 
contradicted. "Several brigades," wrote Adjutant-General 
Scammel to Timothy Pickering, early in February, " have 
been without their allowance of meat. This is the third 
day."T[ " In yesterday's conference with the General," said 
the Committee of Congress sent to report, writing on the 
12th of February, "he informed us that some brigades had 
been four days without meat, and that even the common 
soldiers had been at his quarters to make known their wants." 

* Sparks's Writings of Washington, vol. v. p. 197. t Ibid. 

X Memoirs of Lafayette, vol. i. p. 35. 

§ Correspondence of Col. John Laurens, p. 126. 

II Life of Knox, by Drake, pp. 55-6. 

T[ Life of Pickering, vol. i. p. 204. 



VALLEY FORGE. 323 

" Slioukl the enemy" attack the camp successfully, " your 
artillery would undoubtedly fall into their hands for want 
of horses to remove it. But these are smaller and tolerable 
evils when compared with the imminent danger of your 
troops perishing with famine, or dispersing in search of 
food."* " For some days past there has been little less than 
a famine in the camp," writes Washington to Clinton ; " a 
part of the army has been a week without any kind of 
flesh, and the rest three or four days."t Famished for 
want of food, they were no better oif for clothes. " The un- 
fortunate soldiers were in want of everything. They had 
neither coats, hats, shirts, nor shoes," wrote the Marquis 
de Lafayette.l "The men," said Baron Steuben, "were 
literally naked, some of them in the fullest extent of the 
AVord."§ " 'Tis a melancholy consideration," were the words 
of Pickering, " that hundreds of our men are unfit for 
duty only for want of clothes and shoes." || Hear Washing- 
ton himself on the 23d of December : " We have (besides 
a number of men confined to hospitals for want of shoes, 
and others in farm-houses on the same account), by a field 
return, this day made, no less than two thousand eight 
hundred and ninety-eight men now in camp unfit for duty, 
because they are barefoot, and otherwise naked."^ " Our 
numbers, since the 4th instant, from the hardships and ex- 
posures they have undergone, (many having been obliged 
for want of blankets to sit up all night by fires instead of 
taking rest in a natural and common way,) have decreased 
two thousand men."** By the 1st of February that number 

* Reed's Life of Reed, vol. i. p. 362. 

t Sparks, vol. v. p. 239. J Memoirs, vol. i. p. 35, 

^ Kapp's Life of Steuben, p. 118. 

II Life of Pickering, vol. i. p. 201. T[ Sparks, vol. v. p. 199. 

** Vide Sparks, ibid. 



324 VALLEF FORGE. 

had grown to four thousand, and there were fit for duty 
but five thousand and twelve, or one-half the men in camp. 
" So," in the words of the Hebrew prophet, " they labored 
in the work, and half of them held the spears from the 
rising of the morning till the stars appeared." 

Naked and starving in an unusually rigorous winter, they 
fell sick by hundreds. From want of clothes " their feet and 
legs froze till they became blaclc, and it was often necessary 
to amputate them."* Through a want of straw or mate- 
rials to raise them from the wet earth (I quote again from 
the Committee of Congress) "sickness and mortality have 
spread through their quarters to an astonishing degree." 
The smallpox has broken out. " Notwithstanding the dili- 
gence of the physicians and surgeons, of whom we hear no 
complaint, the sick and dead list has increased one-third in 
the last week's return, which was one-third greater than 
the week preceding, and from the present inclement weather 
will probably increase in a much greater proportion. "f 
Well might Washington exclaim : " Our sick naked, and 
well naked, our unfortunate men in captivity naked !"J; 
" Our difficulties and distresses are certainly great, and 
such as wound the feelings of humanity. "§ Nor was this 
all. Wiiat many had to endure beside, let Dr. Waldo 
tell : " When the officer has been fatiguing throuo-h wet and 
cold, and returns to his tent to find a letter from his wife 
filled with the most heart-aching complaints a woman is 
capable of writing, acquainting him with the incredible 
difficulty with which she procures a little bread for herself 
and children ; that her money is of very little consequence 

* Memoirs of Lafayette, vol. i. p. 35. 
t Reed's Life of Reed, vol. i. p. 361. 
J Sparks, vol. v. p. 207. | Ibid. 



VALLEY FORGE. 325 

to her — concluding with expressions bordering on despair 
of getting sufficient food to keep soul and body together 
through the winter, and begging him to consider that 
charity begins at home, and not suffer his family to perish 
with want in the midst of plenty — what man is there whose 
soul would not shrink within him? Who would not be 
disheartened from persevering in the best of causes — the 
cause of his country — when such discouragements as these 
lie in his w-ay, which his country might remedy if it 
would ?"* 

Listen to his description of the common soldier : " See 
the poor soldier when in health. AVitli what chearfullness 
he meets his foes, and encounters every hardship ! If bare- 
foot, he labours thro' the Mud and Cold with a Song in his 
mouth extolling War and Washington. If his food be bad, 
he eats it notwithstanding with seeming content, blesses 
God for a good Stomach, and Whisles it into digestion. But 
harkee ! Patience a moment ! There comes a Soldier," 
" and crys with an air of wretchedness and dispair : ' I'm Sick ; 
my feet lame; my legs are sore; my body cover'd with 
this tormenting Itch ; my Cloaths are worn out ; my Consti- 
tution is broken; my former Activity is exhausted by fatigue, 
hunger, and Cold ; I fail fast ; I shall soon be no more ! 
And all the reward I shall get will be, 'Poor Will is 
dead !' "f ' And in the midst of this they persevered ! 
Freezing, starving, dying, rather than desert their flag they 
saw their loved ones suffer, but kept the faith. And the 
American yeoman of the Revolution remaining faithful 
through that winter is as splendid an example of devotion 
to duty as that which the pitying ashes of Vesuvius have 
preserved through eighteen centuries in the figure of the 

* Historical Magazine, vol. v. p. 131. f Ibid., p. 169. 



326 VALLEY FORGE. 

Roman soldier standing at his post, unmoved amid all the 
horrors of Pompeii. " The Guard die, but never surren- 
der," was the phrase invented for Cambronne. " My com- 
rades freeze and starve, but they never forsake me," might 
be J3ut into the mouth of Washington. 

" Naked and starving as they are," writes one of their 
officers, we " cannot enough admire the incomparable pa- 
tience and fidelity of the soldiery that they have not been 
ere this excited by their sufferings to a general mutiny and 
desertion."* " Nothing can equal their sufferings," says the 
Committee, " except the patience and fortitude with which 
they bear them."f Greene's account to Knox is touching : 
" Such patience and moderation as they manifested under 
their sufferings does the highest honor to the magnanimity 
of the American soldiers. The seventh day they came before 
their superior officers and told their sufferings as if they had 
been humble petitioners for special favors. They added that 
it would be impossible to continue in camp any longer with- 
out snpport."J In INIarch Thomas Wharton writes in the 
name of Pennsylvania : " The unparalleled j)atience and 
magnanimity with which the army under your Excellency's 
command have endured the hardships attending their situ- 
ation, unsupplied as they have been through an uncommonly 
severe winter, is an honor which posterity will consider as 
more illustrious than could have been derived to them by a 
victory obtained by any sudden and vigorous exertion. "§ " I 
would cherish these dear, ragged Continentals, whose patience 
will be the admiration of future ages, and glory in bleeding 



* Sparks's Writings of Washington, vol. v. p. 239. 

t Reed's Life of Keed, vol. i. p. 361. 

X Life of Greene, by Prof. G. W. Greene, vol. i. p. 563. 

§ Correspondence of the Revolution : Sparks, vol. ii. p. 83. 



VALLEY FORGE. 327 

with them," cried John Laurens in the enthusiasm of youth.* 
" The patience and endurance of both soldiers and officers 
Avas a miracle which each moment served to renew/' said 
Lafayette in his old age.f But the noblest tribute comes~ 
from the pen of him who knew them best: "Without ar- 
rogance or the smallest deviation from truth it may be said 
that no history now extant can furnish an instance of an 
army's suffering such uncommon hardships as ours has done 
and bearing them with the same patience and fortitude. To 
see men without clothes to cover their nakedness, without 
blankets to lie on, without shoes (for the want of which 
their marches might be traced by the blood from their feet), 
and almost as often without provisions as with them, march- 
ing through the frost and snow, and at Christmas taking up 
their winter quarters within a day's march of the enemy, 
without a house or a hut to cover them till they could be 
built, and submitting without a murmur, is a proof of pa 
tience and obedience which in my opinion can scarce be 
paralleled."! Such was Washington's opinion of the sol- 
diers of Valley Forge. 

Americans, who have gathered on the broad bosom of 
these hills to-day : if heroic deeds can consecrate a spot of 
Earth, if the living be still sensible of the example of the 
dead, if Courage be yet a common virtue, and Patience in 
Suffering be still honorable in your sight, if Freedom be 
any longer precious and Faith in Humanity be not banished 
from among you, if Love of Country still find a refuge 
among the hearts of men, take your shoes from off your 
feet, for the place on which you stand is holy ground ! 

And who are the leaders of the men whose heroism can 



* Correspondence of John Laurens, p. 136. 

t Memoirs, vol. i. p. 35, X Sparks, vol. v. p. 329. 



328 VALLEY FORGE. 

sanctify a place like this ? Descend the hill and wander 
through the camp. The weather is intensely cold and the 
smoke hangs above the huts. On the plain behind the front 
line a few general officers are grouped about a squad whom 
the new inspector, the German baron, is teaching some ma- 
noeuvre. Bodies of men here and there are draj^ffing; wag-ons 
up hill (for the horses have starved to death) or carrying 
fuel for fires, without which the troops would freeze.* The 
huts are deserted save by the sick or naked, and as you pass 
along the street a poor fellow peeps out at the door of one 
and cries : " No bread, no soldier !" 

These are the huts of Huntington's brigade of the Con- 
necticut line;t next to it those of Pennsylvanians under 
Conway. This is the Irish-Frenchman soon to disappear 
in a disgraceful intrigue. Here in camp there are many 
who whisper that he is a mere adventurer, but in Congress 
they still think him " a great military character." Down 
towards headquarters are the Southerners commanded by 
Tiachlin Mcintosh, in his youth " the handsomest man in" 
Georgia. Beyond Conway, on the hill, is Maxwell, a gal- 
lant Irishman, commissioned by New Jersey. Woodford 
of Virginia, commands on the right of the second line, and 
in front of him the Virginian Scott. The next brigade in 
order are Pennsylvanians — many of them men whose homes 
are in this neighborhood — Chester county boys and Quakers 
from the Valley turned soldiers for their country's sake. 
They are the children of three races — the hot Irish blood 
mixes with the colder Dut(;h in their calm English veins, 
and some of them — their chief, for instance — are splendid 
fighters. There he is at this moment riding up the hill 
from his quarters in the valley. A man of medium height 

* Reed's Life of Reed, p. 362. 

t Map in vol. v. of Sparks's Washington. 



VALLEY FORGE. 329 

and strong frame, he sits his horse well and with a dashing 
air. His nose is prominent, his eye piercing, his complexion 
ruddy, his whole appearance that of a man in s])lendid 
health and flowing spirits. He is just the fellow to win by 
his headlong valor the nickname of " The Mad." But he 
is more than a mere fighter. Skilful, energetic, full of re- 
sources and presence of mind, quick to comprehend and 
prompt to act, of sound judgment and extraordinary cour- 
age, he has in him the qualities of a great general, as he 
shall show many a time in his short life of one-and-fifty 
years. Pennsylvania, after her quiet fashion, may not 
make as much of his fame as it deserves, but impartial 
history will allow her none the less the honor of having 
given its most brilliant soklier to the Revolution in her 
Anthony Wayne. Poor of New Hampshire, is encamped 
next, and then Glover, whose regiment of Marblehead 
sailors and fishermen manned the boats that saved the 
army on the night of the retreat from Long Island. 
Learned, Patterscju, and Weedon follow, and then at the 
corner of the entrenchments by the river is the Virginian 
brigade of Muhlenberg. Born at the Trappe, close by, 
and educated abroad, Muhlenberg was a clergyman in Vir- 
ginia when the war came on, but he has doffed his parson's 
gown forever for the buff and blue of a brigadier. His 
stalwart form and swarthy face are already as familiar to 
the enemy as they are to his own men, for the Hessians are 
said to have cried, "Hier kommt Teufel Pete!"* as they 
saw him lead a charge at Brandy wine. The last brigade is 
stationed on the river bank, where Varnum and his Rhode 
Islanders, in sympathy with young Laurens, of Carolina, 
are busy with a scheme to raise and enlist regiments of 



* Greene's Life of Greene, vol. i. p. 452. 
22 



330 VALLEV FORGE. 

negro troops.* These are the commanders of brigades. The 
major-generals are seven. Portly William Alexander, of 
New Jersey, who claims to be the Earl of Stirling, but can 
fight for a republic bravely, nevertheless ; swarthy John 
Sullivan, of New Hampshire, a little headstrong, but brave 
as a lion ; Steuben, the Prussian martinet, who has just 
come to teach the army ; De Kalb — self-sacrificing and 
generous DeKalb — whose honest breast shall soon bear 
eleven mortal wounds, received in the service of America; 
Lafayette, tall, with auburn hair, the French boy of twenty 
Avith an old man's head, just recovering from the wounds of 
Brandy wine ; and last and greatest of them all, Nathaniel 
Greene, the Quaker blacksmith from Rhode Island, in all 
great qualities second only to the Chief himself. Yonder 
is Henry Knox of the artillery, as brave and faithful as he 
is big and burly ; and the Pole, Pulaski, a man " of hardly 
middle stature, of sharp countenance and lively air."f Here 
are the Frenchmen, Du Portail, Dubryson, Duplessis, and 
Duponceau. Here are Timothy Pickering and Light Horse 
Harry Lee, destined to be famous in Senate, Cabinet, and 
field. Here are Henry Dearborn and William Hull, whose 
paths in life shall one day cross again, and John Laurens 
and Tench Tilghman, those models of accomplished man- 
hood, destined so soon to die ! 

Does that silent boy of twenty, who has just ridden by 
with a message from Lord Stirling, imagine that one day 
the doctrine which shall keep the American continent free 
from the touch of European politics shall be forever asso- 
ciated with the name of James Monroe ? Does yonder tall, 

* Correspondence of John Laurens, p. 108. Historical Research 
respecting Negroes as Slaves, Citizens, and as Soldiers, Livermore, 
p. 151. 

f Waldo, Historical Magazine, vol. v. p. 171. 



VALLF.r FORGE. 331 

aAvkward youth in the Third Virginia, who bore a musket 
so gallantly at Brandywine, dream as he lies there shiver- 
ing in his little hut on the slopes of Mount Joy that in the 
not distant future it is he that shall build up the jurispru- 
dence of a people, and after a life of usefulness and honor 
bequeath to them in the fame of John Marshall the precious 
example of a great and upright Judge ? Two other youths 
are here — both of small stature and lithe, active frame — of 
the same rank and almost the same age, whose ambitious 
eyes alike look forward already to fame and power in law 
and politics. But not even his own aspiring spirit can fore- 
tell the splendid rise, the dizzy elevation and the sudden 
fall of Aaron Burr — nor can the other foresee that the time 
will never come when his countrymen will cease to admire 
the ffenius and lament the fate of Alexander Hamilton ! 

And what shall I say of him who bears on his heart the 
weight of all? Who can measure the anxieties that afflict 
his mind? Who weigh the burdens that he has to bear? 
Who but himself can ever know the responsibilities that rest 
upon his soul? Behold him in yonder cottage, his lamp 
burning steadily through half the winter night, his brain 
never at rest, his hand always busy, his pen ever at work ; 
now counselling with Greene how to clothe and feed the 
troops, or with Steuben how to reorganize the service ; now 
writing to Howe about exchanges, or to Livingston about 
the relief of prisoners, or to Clinton about supplies, or to 
Congress about enlistments or promotions or finances or the 
French Alliance; opposing foolish and rash counsels to-day, 
urging prompt and rigorous policies to-morrow ; now calm- 
ing the jealousy of Congress, now soothing the wounded 
pride of ill-used officers ; now answering the complaints of 
the civil authority, and now those of the starving soldiers, 
whose suiferings he shares, and by his cheerful courage 



332 VALLEY FORGE. 

keeping up the hearts of both ; repressing the zeal of 
friends to-day, and overcoming with steadfast rectitude the 
intrigues of enemies in Congress and in camp to-morrow; 
bearing criticism with patience, and calumny with fortitude, 
and, lest his country should suffer, answering both only with 
plans ibr her defence, of which others are to reap the glory; 
guarding the long coast with ceaseless vigilance, and watch- 
ing with sleepless eye a chance to strike the enemy in front 
a blow ; a soldier subordinating the military to the civil 
power ; a dictator, as mindful of the rights of Tories as of 
the wrongs of Whigs ; a statesman, commanding a revolu- 
tionary army; a patriot, forgetful of nothing but himself; 
this is he wdiose extraordinary virtues only have kept the 
army from disbanding, and saved his country's cause. 
Modest in the midst of Pride; Wise in the midst of Folly; 
Calm in the midst of Passion ; Cheerful in the midst of 
Gloom; Steadfast among the Wavering; Hopeful among 
the Despondent ; Bold among the Timid ; Prudent among 
the Rash ; Generous among the Selfish ; True among the 
Faitldess; Greatest among good men, and Best among the 
Great — such was George Washington at Valley Forge. 

But the darkest hour of night is just before the day. In 
the middle of February Washington described the dreadful 
situation of the army and " the miserable prospects before 
it" as " more alarming" than can possibly be conceived, and 
as occasioning him more distress " than he had felt"* since 
the commencement of the war. On the 23d of February, 
he whom we call Baron Steuben, rode into camp ;t on the 
6th Franklin signed the Treaty of Alliance at Versailles. 

Frederick A\^illiam Augustus Baron \on Steuben was a 
native of Magdeburg, in Prussia. Trained from early life 

* Sparks, vol. v. p. 239. f Kapp's Life of Steuben, p. 104. 



VALLEV FORGE. 333 

to arms, he had been Aide to the Great Frederick, Lieuten- 
ant-General to the Prince of Baden, Grand Marshal at the 
Court of one of the Hohenzollerns, and a Canon of the 
Church. A skilful soldier, a thorough disciplinarian, a 
gentleman of polished manners, a man of warm and gener- 
ous heart, he had come in the prime of life and vigor to 
oifer his services to the American people. None could have 
been more needed or more valuable at the time. Congress 
sent him to the camp, Washington quickly discerned his 
worth, and in a little time ho was made Major-General and 
Inspector of the Army. In an instant there was a change 
in that department. A discipline unknown before took 
possession of the camp. Beginning with a picked company 
of one hundred and twenty men, the Baron drilled them 
carefully, himself on foot and musket in hand. These, 
Avhen they became proficient, he made a model for others, 
and presently the whole camp had become a military school. 
Rising at three in the morning, he smoked a single pij)e 
while his servant dressed his hair, drank one cup of colfee, 
and, with his star of knighthood gleaming on his breast, 
was on horseback at sunrise, and, witii or without his suite, 
galloj^ed to the parade. There all day he drilled the men, 
and at nightfall galloped back to the hut in which he made 
his quarters, to draw up regulations and draft instructions 
for the inspectors under him.* And thus day after day, 
patient, careful, laborious, and persevering, in a few months 
he transformed this untrained yeomanry into a disciplined 
and effective army. There have been more brilliant ser- 
vices rendered to America than these, but few perhaps more 
valuable and worthier of remembrance. Knight of the 
Order of Fidelity, there have been more illustrious names 

* Kapp's Life of Steuben, p. 130, 



334 VALLEV FORGE. 

than thine upon our lips to-day. Like many another who 
labored for us, our busy age has seemed to pass thee by. 
But here, at least, when, after a Century, Americans gather 
to review their Country's history, shall they recall thy un- 
selfish services with gratitude and thy memory with honor! 
And surely at Valley Forge we must not forget what 
Franklin was doing for his country's cause in France. It 
was a happy thing for the Republican Idea that it had a 
distant continent for the place of its experiment. It was a 
fortunate thing for America that between her and her 
nearest European neiglibor lay a thousand leagues of sea. 
That distance — a very different matter from what it is to- 
day — made it at the same time difficult for England to 
overcome us, and safe for France to lend us aid. From an 
early period this alliance seemed to have been considered by 
the Cabinet of France. For several years secret negotiations 
had been going on, and in the fall of 1777 they became 
open and distinct, and the representatives of both nations 
came face to face. There was no sympathy between weak 
and feeble Louis and his crafty Ministers on the one side 
and the representatives of Democracy and Rebellion on the 
other ; nor had France any hopes of regaining her foothold 
on this Continent. The desire of her rulers was simply to 
humiliate and injure England, and the revolution in Amer- 
ica seemed to offer the chance. Doubtless they were influ- 
enced by the fact that the cause of America had become 
very popular with all classes of the French people, im- 
pressed to a remarkable degree with the character of Dr. 
Franklin, and stirred by the contagious and generous ex- 
ample of Lafayette. Nor was this popular feeling merely 
temporary or without foundation. Long familiar as he 
had been with despotism in both politics and religion, the 
Frenchman still retained within him a certain spirit of 



VALLEV FORGE. 33.3 

liberty which was stronger than he knew. His sympathies 
naturally went out toward a distant people engaged in a 
ijallant stru2:2;le ao-ainst his hereditary enemies, the Ensrlish: 
but besides all that, there was in his heart something, he 
hardly knew what, that vibrated at the thought of a free- 
dom for others which he had hardly dreamed of and never 
known. Little did he or any of his rulers foresee what 
that something was. Little did France imagine, as she 
blew into a flame the spark of Liberty beyond the sea, that 
there was that within her own dominions which in eleven 
years, catching the divine fire from the glowing "West, 
would set herself and Europe in a blaze ! Accordingly, 
after much doubt, delay, and intrigue, during which Frank- 
lin bore himself with rare ability and tact, Treaties of Amity, 
Commerce, and Alliance were prepared and signed. The 
Independence of America was acknowledged and made the 
basis of alliance, and it M^as mutually agreed that neither 
nation should lay down its arms until England had con- 
ceded it. A fleet, an army, and munitions were promised 
by the King, and, as a consequence, war was at once declared 
against Great Britain. 

We are accustomed to regard this as the turning-point in 
the Revolutionary struggle. And so it was. But neither 
the fleet of France nor her armies, gallant as they were, nor 
the supplies and means with which she furnished us, were 
as valuable to the cause of the struggling country as the 
moral effect, at home as well as abroad, of the Alliance. 
Hopes that were built upon the skill of French sailors 
were soon dispelled, the expectations of large contingent 
armies were not to be fulfilled, but the news of the French 
Alliance carried into every patriotic heart an assurance that 
never left it afterward and kept aroused a spirit that hence- 
forward grew stronger every year. Says the historian 



336 VALLEY FORGE. 

Bancroft : " Tlie benefit then conferred on the United 
States was priceless." And " so the flags of France and 
the United States went together into the field ao;ainst Great 
Britain, unsupported by any other government, yet with the 
good wishes of all the peoples of Europe."* And thus 
illustrious Franklin, the Philadelphia printer, earned the 
magnificent compliment that was paid him in the French 
Academy: "Eripuit fulmen coelo, sceptrumque tyrannis." 

And all the while, unconscious of the event, the winter 
days at Valley Forge dragged by, one after another, with 
sleet and slush and snow, with storms of wind, and ice and 
beating rain. The light-horse scoured the country, the 
pickets watched, the sentinels paced up and down, the men 
drilled and practised, and starved and froze and suffered, 
and at last the spring-time came, and with it stirring news. 
Greene was appointed Quartermaster-General on the 23d 
of March, and under his skilful management relief and 
succor came. The Conciliatory Bills, oifering all but inde- 
pendence, were received in April, and instantly rejected by 
Congress, under the stirring influence of a letter from 
Washington, declaring with earnestness that "nothing short 
of independence would do," and at last, on the 4th of May, 
at eleven o'clock at night, the news of the French treaty 
reached the Head-Quarters. 

On the 6th, by general orders, the army, after appropriate 
religious services, was drawn up under arms, salutes were 
fired with cannon and musketry, cheers given by the sol- 
diers for the King of France and the American States, and 
a banquet by the General-in-Chief to all the officers, in the 
open air, completed a day devoted to rejoicing.f " And all 

* History of the United States, vol. ix. pp. 505-6. 
t Correspondence of John Laurens, p. 169. 



< 



VALLEV FORGE. 337 

tlie wliile," says the English satirist, "■ Howe left the famous 
camp of Valley Forge untouched, whilst his great, brave, 
and perfectly appointed army, fiddled and gambled and 
feasted in Philadelphia. And by Byng's countrymen 
triumphal arches w'ere erected, tournaments were held in 
pleasant mockery of the Middle Ages, and wreaths and 
garlands offered by beautiful ladies to this clement chief, 
with fantastical mottoes and poesies announcing that his 
laurels should be immortal."* On the 18th of May (the 
day of that famous festivity) Lafayette took post at Barren 
Hill, from which he escaped so brilliantly two days after- 
wards. At last, on the 18th of June, George Roberts,f of 
Philadelphia, came galloping up the Gulf Road covered 
wath dust and sweat, with the news that the British had 
evacuated Philadelphia. Six brigades were at once in 
motion — the rest of the army prepared to follow with all 
possible despatch early on the 19th. The bridge across the 
Schuylkill was laden with tramping troops. Cannon rum- 
bled rapidly down the road to the river. The scanty bag- 
gage was packed, the flag at Head-Quarters taken doM'u, the 
last brigade descended the river bank, the huts were empty, 
the breastworks deserted, the army was off for Monmouth, 
and the hills of Valley Forge were left alone with their 
glory and their dead. The last foreign foe had left the soil 
of Pennsylvania forever. Yes, the last foreign foe ! Who 
could foretell the mysteries of the future ? Who foresee 
the trials that were yet to come? Little did the sons of 
New England and the South, who starved and froze and 
died here in the snow together, think, as their eyes beheld 
for the last time the little flag that meant for them a com- 



* Thackeray's Virginians, chap. xci. 

t Sparks's Writings of Washington, vol. v. p. 409. 



338 VALLEY FORGE. 

mon country, that tlie time would come when, amid sound 
of cannon, their children, met again on Pennsylvania soil, 
would confront each other in the splendid agony of battle ! 
Sorrow was their portion, but it was not given them to 
suffer this. It was theirs to die in the gloomiest period of 
their country's history, but certain that her salvation was 
assured. It was theirs to go down into the grave rejoicing 
in the belief that their lives were sacrifice enough, blessedly 
unconscious that the Liberty for which they struggled de- 
manded that three hundred thousand of their children 
should with equal courage and devotion lay down their 
lives in its defence. Happy alike they who died before 
that time and we who have survived it ! And, thank God 
this day, that its shadow has passed away forever. The 
sins of the fathers, visited upon the children, have been 
washed away in blood — the sacrifice has been accepted — 
the expiation has been complete. The men of North and 
South whose bones moulder on these historic hillsides did 
not die in vain. The institutions which they gave us we 
preserve — the Freedom for which they fought is still our 
birthright — the flag under which they died floats above our 
heads on this anniversary, the emblem of a redeemed, re- 
generate, reunited country. The union of those States still 
stands secure. Enemies within and foes without have failed 
to break it, and the spirit of faction, from whatever quarter 
or in whatever cause, can no more burst its holy bonds 
asunder, than can we separate in this sacred soil the dust of 
Massachusetts and that of Carolina from that Pennsylvania 
dust in whose embrace it has slumbered for a century, and 
with which it must forever be indistinguishably mingled ! 

Such, then, is the history of this famous place. To my 
mind it has a glory all its own ! The actions which have 
made it famous stand by themselves. It is not simply 



VALLEF FORGE. 339 

because they were heroic. Brave deeds liave sanctified innu- 
merable places in every land. The men of our revolution 
were not more brave than their French allies, or their Ger- 
man cousins, or their English brethren. Courage belongs 
alike to all men. Nor were they the only men in history 
who suffered. Others have borne trial as bravely, endured 
with the same patience, died with as perfect a devotion. But 
it is not given to all men to die in the best of causes or win 
the greatest victories. It was the rare fortune of those who 
were assembled here a hundred years ago that, having in 
their keeping the most momentous things that were ever 
intrusted to a people, they were at once both faithful and 
victorious. The army that was encamped here was but a 
handful, but what host ever defended so much? And what 
spot of Earth has had a farther reaching and happier influ- 
ence on the Human Race than this ? 

Is it that which the traveller beholds when from Pen- 
telicus he looks down on Marathon? The life of Athens was 
short, and the Liberty which was saved on that immortal 
field she gave up ingloriously more than twenty centuries 
ago. The tyranny she resisted so gallantly from without, 
she practised cruelly at home. The sword which she 
wielded so well in her own defence she turned as readily 
against her children. Her civilization, brilliant as it was, 
was narrow and her spirit selfish. The boundaries of her 
tiny state were larger than her heart, whose sympathy 
could not include more than a part of her own kindred. 
Her aspirations were pent up in herself, and she stands in 
history to-day a prodigy of short-lived splendor — a warning 
rather than example. 

Is it any one of those, where the men of the Forest Can- 
tons fell on the invader like an avalanche from their native 
Alps and crushed him out of existence? The bravery of 



340 VALLEF FORGE. 

the Swiss achieved only a sterile independence, which his 
native mountains defended as well as he, and he tarnished 
his glory forever when the sword of Morgarten was hawked 
about the courts of Europe, and the victor of Grandson and 
Morat sold himself to the foreio-n shambles of the highest 
bidder. 

Or is it that still more famous field, where the Belgian 
lion keeps guard over the dead of three great nations? 
There, three and sixty years ago yesterday, the armies of 
Europe met in conflict. It was the war of giants. On the 
one side England, the first power of the age, flushed with 
victory, of inexhaustible resources, redoubtable by land 
and invincible by sea; and Prussia, vigorous by nature, 
stronger by adversity, hardened by suffering, full of bitter 
memories and hungry for revenge ; and, on the other, France, 
once mistress of the Continent, the arbiter of nations, the 
conqueror of Wagram and Marengo and Fried land and 
Austerlitz — spent at last in her own service, crushed rather 
by the weight of her victories than by ihe power of her ene- 
mies' arm — turning in her bloody footsteps, like a wounded 
lion, to spring with redoubled fury at the throat of her 
pursuers. Behold the conflict as it raged through the long 
June day, while all the world listened and held its breath ! 

The long lines of red, the advancing columns of blue, 
the glitter of burnished steel, the roll of drums, the clangor 
of trumpets, the cheering of men, the fierce attack, the stub- 
born resistance, the slow recoil, the rattle of musketry, the 
renewed assault, the crash of arms, the roar of cannons, the 
clatter of the charging cavalry, the cries of the combatants, 
the clash of sabres, the shrieks of the dying, the confused 
retreat, the gallant rally, the final charge, the sickening re- 
pulse, the last struggle, the shouts of the victors, the screams 
of the vanquished, the wild confusion, the blinding smoke. 



VALLEV FORGE. 341 

the awful uproar, the unspeakable rout, the furious pursuit, 
the sounds dying in the distance, the groans of the wounded, 
the fall of the summer rain, the sighing of the evening 
breeze, the solemn silence of the night. Climb the steps 
that lead to the summit of the mound that marks that place 
to-day. There is no spot in Europe more famous tlian the 
field beneath your feet. In outward aspect it is not unlike 
this which we behold here. The hills are not so high nor 
the valleys so deep, but the general effect of field and farm, 
of ripening grain and emerald woodland, is much tlie same. 
It has not been changed. There is the chateau of Hougo- 
mont on the west and the forest through which the Prus- 
sians came on the east ; on yonder hill the Emperor watched 
the battle ; beneath you Ney made the last of many charges 
— the world knows it all by heart. The traveller of every 
race turns toward it his footsteps. It is the most celebrated 
battle-field of Europe and of modern times. 

But what did that great victory accomplish ? It broke 
the power of one nation and asserted the independence of 
the rest. It took from France an Emperor and gave her 
back a King, a ruler whom she had rejected in place of one 
whom she had chosen, a Bourbon for a Bonaparte, a King 
by divine right for an Emperor by the people's will. It 
revenged the memory of Jena and Corunna, and broke the 
spell that made the fated name Napoleon the bond of an 
empire almost universal ; it struck down one great man and 
fixed a dozen small ones on the neck of Europe. But what 
did it bequeath to us besides the ever-precious example of 
heroic deeds? Nothing. What did they who conquered 
there achieve? Fame for themselves, Woe for the van- 
quished, Glory for England, Revenge for Prussia, Shame 
for France, nothing for Humanity, nothing for Liberty. 
Nothincr for Civilization, nothinsr for the liio-hts of Man. 



342 VALLEF FORGE. 

One of the great Englishmen of that clay declared that it 
had turned back the hands of the dial of the World's 
progress for fifty years. And, said an English poetess : — 

" The Kings crept out again to feel the sun. 

The Kings crept out — the peoples sat at home. 

And finding the long invocated peace 

A pall embroidered with worn images 

Of rights divine, too scant to cover doom 

Such as tliey suffered, — curst the corn that grew 

Rankly, to bitter bread, on Waterloo." 

]\Iy countrymen : For a century the eyes of struggling 
nations have turned toward this spot, and lips in every lan- 
guage have blessed the memory of Valley Forge ! The 
tide of battle never ebbed and flowed upon these banks. 
These hills never trembled beneath the tread of charging 
squadrons nor echoed the thunders of contending can- 
non. The blood that stained this ground did not rush 
forth in the joyous frenzy of the fight; it fell drop by drop 
from the heart of a suffering people. They who once en- 
camped here in the snow fought not for conquest, not for 
power, not for glory, not for their country only, not for 
themselves alone. They served here for Posterity ; they 
suiFered here for the Human Race ; they bore here the cross 
of all the peoples ; they died here that Freedom might be 
the heritage of all. It was Humanity which they defended ; 
it was Liberty herself that they had in keeping. She that 
was sought in the wilderness and mourned for by the 
waters of Babylon — that Avas saved at Salarais and thrown 
away at Chseronea ; that was fought for at Cannje and lost 
forever at Pharsalia and Philippi — she who confronted the 
Armada on the deck with Howard and rode beside Crom- 
well on the field of Worcester — for whom the Swiss gath- 



VALLEY FORGE. 343 

ered into his breast the sheaf of spears at Sempach, and tlie 
Dutchman broke the dykes of Holland and welcomed in 
the sea — she of whom Socrates spoke, and Plato wrote, and 
Brutus dreamed and Homer sung — for whom Eliot pleaded, 
and Sydney suffered, and Milton prayed, and Hampden 
fell ! Driven by the persecution of centuries from the 
older world, she had come with Pilgrim and Puritan, and 
Cavalier and Quaker, to seek a shelter in the new. At- 
tacked once more by her old enemies, she had taken refuge 
here. Nor she alone. The dream of the Greek, the He- 
brew's prophecy, the desire of the Roman, the Italian's 
prayer, the longing of the German mind, the hope of the 
French heart, the glory and honor of Old England herself, 
the yearning of all the centuries, the aspiration of every 
age, the promise of the Past, the fulfilment of the Future, 
the seed of the old time, the harvest of the new — all these 
were with her. And here, in the heart of America, they 
were safe. The last of many struggles was almost won ; 
the best of many centuries was about to break ; the time 
was already come when from these shores the light of a 
new Civilization should flash across the sea, and from this 
place a voice of triumph make the Old World tremble, 
when from her chosen refuge in the West the spirit of 
Liberty should go forth to meet the Pising Sun and set 
the people free ! 

Americans : A hundred years have passed away and that 
Civilization and that Liberty are still your heritage. But 
think not that such an inheritance can be kept safe without 
exertion. It is the burden of your Happiness, that with it 
Privilege and Duty go hand in hand together. You cannot 
shirk the Present and enjoy in the Future the blessings of 
the Past. Yesterday begot To-day, and To-day is the parent 
of To-morrow. The Old Time may be secure, but the New 



344 VALLEY FORGE. 

Time is uncertain. The dead are safe ; it is the privilege of 
the living to be in peril. A country is benefited by great 
actions only so long as her children are able to rejjeat them. 
The memory of this spot shall be an everlasting honor for 
our fathers, but we can make it an eternal shame for our- 
selves if we choose to do so. The glory of Lexington and 
Bunker Hill and Saratoy;a and Vallev Forge belongs not 
to you and me, but we can make it ours if we will. It is 
well for us to keep these anniversaries of great events. It 
is well for us to meet by thousands on these historic spots. 
It is well to walk by those unknown graves or follow the 
windings of the breastworks that encircle yonder hill. It 
is well for us to gather beneath yon little fort, which the 
storms of so many winters have tenderly spared to look 
down on us to-day. It is well to commemorate the past 
w'itli song and eulogy and pleasant festival — but it is not 
enough. 

If they could return, Avhose forms have been passing in 
imagination before our eyes ; if in the presence of this holy 
hour the dead could rise and lips dumb for a century find 
again a tongue, might they not say to us : You do well, 
Countrymen, to commemorate this time. You do well to 
honor those who yielded up their lives in glory here. 
Theirs was a perfect sacrifice, and the debt you owe them 
you can never pay. Your lines have fallen in a happier 
time. The boundaries of your Union stretch from sea to 
sea. You enjoy all the blessings which Providence can be- 
stow ; a peace we never knew ; a wealth we never hoped 
for; a power of which we never dreamed. Yet think not 
that these tilings only can make a nation great. We laid 
the foundations of your happiness in a time of trouble, in 
days of sorrow and perplexity, of doubt, distress, and dan- 
ger, of cold and hunger, of suffering and want. We built 



VALLEY FORGE. 345 

it up by virtue, by courage, by self-sacrifice, by unfailing 
patriotism, by unceasing vigilance. By those things alone 
did we win your liberties ; by them only can you hope to 
keep them. Do you revere our names ? Then follow our 
example. Are you proud of our achievements ? Then try 
to imitate them. Do you honor our memories ? Then do as 
we have done. You yourselves owe something to America, 
better than all those things which you spread before her with 
such lavish hand — something which she needs as much in 
her prosperity to-day, as ever in the sharpest crisis of her 
fate ! For you have duties to perform as well as we. It 
was ours to create ; it is yours to preserve. It was ours to 
found; it is yours to perpetuate. It was ours to organize; 
it is yours to purify ! And what nobler spectacle can you 
present to mankind to-day, than that of a people honest, 
steadfast, and secure — mindful of the lessons of experience 
— true to the teachings of history — led by the loftiest ex- 
amples and bound together to protect their institutions at 
the close of the Century, as their fathers were to win them 
at the beginning, by the ties of " Virtue, Honor, and Love 
of Country" — by that Virtue which makes perfect the 
happiness of a people — by that Honor which constitutes 
the chief greatness of a State — by that Patriotism which 
survives all things, braves all things, endures all things, 
achieves all things — and which, though it find a refuge no- 
where else, should live in the heart of every true American ! 
My Countrymen : the century that has gone by has 
changed the face of Nature and wrought a revolution in 
the habits of mankind. We to-day behold the dawn of 
an extraordinary age. Freed from the chains of ancient 
thought and superstition, man has begun to win the most 
extraordinary victories in the domain of Science. One by 
one he has dispelled the doubts of the ancient world. 

23 



34G VALLEY FORGE. 

Nothing is too difficult for his hand to attempt — no region 
too remote — no place too sacred for his daring eye to pene- 
trate. He has robbed the Earth of her secrets and sought 
to solve tlie mysteries of the Heavens ! He has secured and 
chained to his service the elemental forces of Nature — he 
has made the fire his steed — the winds his ministers — the 
seas his pathway — the lightning his messenger. He has 
descended into the bowels of the Earth and walked in 
safety on the bottom of the sea. He has raised his head 
above the clouds and made the impalpable air his resting- 
j)lace. He has tried to analyze the stars, count the constel- 
lations, and weigh the Sun. He has advanced with such 
astounding speed that, breathless, we have reached a mo- 
ment when it seems as if distance had been annihilated, 
time made as naught, the invisible seen, the inaudible 
heard, the unspeakable spoken, the intangible felt, the im- 
possible accomplished. And already we knock at the door 
of a new century Avhich promises to be infinitely brighter 
and more enlightened and happier than this. But in all 
this blaze of light which illuminates the present and casts 
its reflection into the distant recesses of the past, there is 
not a single ray that shoots into the Future. Not one step 
have we taken toward the solution of the mystery of Life. 
That remains to-day as dark and unfathomable as it was * 

ten thousand years ago. 

We know that we are more fortunate than our fathers. 
We believe that our children shall be happier than we. AVe < 

know that this century is more enlightened than the last. ^ 

We hope that the time to come will be better and more ,< 

glorious than this. We think, we believe, we hope, but 
we do not know. Across that threshold we may not pass ; 
behind that veil we may not penetrate. Into that country 
it may not be for us to go. It may be vouchsafed to us to 



VALLEY FORGE. 347 

behold it, wonderingly, from afar, but never to enter in. It 
matters not. The age in which we live is but a link in the 
endless and eternal chain. Our lives are like the sands upon 
the shore ; our voices like the breath of this summer breeze 
that stirs the leaf for a moment and is forgotten. Whence 
we have come and whither we shall go not one of us can 
tell. And the last survivor of this mighty multitude shall 
stay but a little while. 

But in the impenetrable To Be, the endless generations 
are advancing to take our places as we fall. For them as 
for us shall the Earth roll on and the seasons come and go, 
the snowflakes fall, the flowers bloom, and the harvests be 
gathered in. For them as for us shall the Sun, like the life 
of man, rise out of darkness in the morning and sink into 
darkness in the niffht. For them as for us shall the vears 
march by in the sublime procession of the ages. And here, 
in this place of Sacrifice, in this vale of Humiliation, in this 
valley of the Shadow of that Death, out of which the Life 
of America rose, regenerate and free, let us believe with an 
abiding faith, that to them Union will seem as dear and 
Liberty as sweet and Progress as glorious as they were to 
our fathers and are to you and me, and that the Institutions 
which have made us happy, preserved by the virtue of our 
children, shall bless the remotest generations of the time to 
come. And unto Him, who holds in the hollow of His 
hand the fate of nations, and yet marks the sparrow's fall, 
let us lift up our hearts this day, and into His eternal care 
commend ourselves, our children, and our country. 



ORATION 



COMPOSED TO BE DELIVERED AT 



FREEHOLD, NEW JERSEY, JUNE 28, 1878, 



THE ONE HUNDREDTH ANNIVERSARY 



OF THE 



BATTLE OF MONMOUTH. 



ORATION. 



It is your fortune, men of Monmouth, to dwell upon 
historic ground. Yonder by the sea are the hills on which 
Hendrik Hudson gazed before he beheld the great river 
which still bears his name. Around you are the towns and 
villages whose settlements recall the days of Carteret and 
Berkeley. The name of your pleasant country takes the 
imagination back to the gay court of Charles the Second 
and his favorite and ill-fated son — and year after year you 
gather the ripened grain from one of the most famous fields 
in the long fight for Liberty. Your sires were a patriotic 
race. When the struggle with Great Britain had begun 
and the gallant town of Boston lay suifering and in chains, 
the men of Monmouth County sent on October 12, 1774, 
twelve hundred bushels of rye and fifty barrels of rye 
meal to their suffering brethren, with a letter in which I 
find these words : " We rely under God upon the firmness 
and resolution of your people, and earnestly hope they will 
never think of receding from the glorious ground they 
stand upon while the blood of Freedom runs in their 
veins."* So wrote the Jerseymen of Monmouth in the 
beginning of the trouble, and when the war broke out they 

* Collections of Massachusetts Historical Society, 4th Series, vol. 
iv. p. 110. 

351 



352 MONMOUTH. 

did not wait for their enemy to come, but armed themselves 
and went to meet him. 

Sons of such sires, in full enjoyment of all they gained 
for you, you can celebrate with a light heart to-day, the 
28th of June. The glory of that day belongs to all your 
countrymen alike, but the place that witnessed it belongs to 
you. The place — the time — this inspiring throng, would 
stir colder blood than his who speaks to you ; and even if 
all else were calm within me, here and now I must still 
feel tingling within my veins the drops of blood which I 
inherit from one whose patriotic heart boiled within him at 
the hedgerow on the Parsonage farm an hundred years ago. 
And I must not forget that my duty is chiefly introductory. 
My task to-day is to describe the battle. It is hard to 
describe a fight, especially one so full of strange and con- 
tradictory stories, nor is it easy to cram into an hour's 
speech the deeds of a day so long and glorious. With me 
you shall fight that battle over again. Others shall follow 
me to charm you with their eloquence, but for the hour that 
I stand here to-day, the Battle of Monmouth shall be the 
orator. I pray you, then, my countrymen, to listen, and to 
give me your attention and your patience. 

The British and American armies during the winter of 
1777-78 presented the most extraordinary contrast in mil- 
itary history. The troops of Washington were encamped 
in huts at Valley Forge, without clothes, or shoes, or 
blankets, and some of the time without food even of the 
simplest kind. The army of Howe lay snugly ensconced 
in Philadelphia, protected by strong entrenchments, thor- 
oughly equipped, well fed, well clothed, and in direct com- 
munication with New York and England. At one time 
the hardships of the winter had reduced the Americans from 
eleven or twelve thousand to five thousand and twelve men. 



MONMOUTH. 353 

The British marched into Philadelphia with more than nine- 
teen thousand, and at no time had less than twelve ready for 
the field.* "Two marches on the fine Lancaster road," said 
Lafiiyette, " by establishing the English in the rear of" the 
American " right flank, would have rendered their position 
untenable, from which, however, they had no means of 
retiring. The unfortunate soldiers were in want of every- 
thing. . . . From want of money they could neither obtain 
provisions nor any means of transport." They " frequently 
remained whole days without" food. " The sight of their 
misery prevented new engagements — it was almost impossi- 
ble to levy recruits."t From December till the middle of 
March their situation continued to be desperate, and at any 
time during that period resistance to a vigorous attack by 
Sir William Howe would have been impossible. But that 
which rendered their sufferings so severe, protected them. 
The weather was extremely cold, the ice immensely thick, 
the highways blocked with snow. Philadelphia furnished 
attractive quarters — it would be as easy to disperse the rebels 
next week as to-morrow. They had been often beaten in 
the field, and could be at any time — their submission was 
simply a question of a few months — it would be best to wait 
till spring. So reasoned the English commander, and the 
opportunity slipped by forever. Little did he understand 
the value to the rebels of those winter days. Little did he 
know while his officers feasted and gambled and rioted in 
Philadelphia, that yonder up the Schuylkill those ragged, 
half-starved rebels were drilling and practising and growing 
into an effective and veteran army. January and February 

* In March, 1778, they were nineteen thousand five hundred and 
thirty strong. Vide Sparks, vol. v. p. 542. 
f Memoirs of Lafayette, vol. i. p. 35. 



354 MONMOUTH. 

went by while the British were amusing themselves and 
the Americans working hard ; INIarch and April came and 
went, and still there were feasting and frolic in Philadel- 
phia, and fasting and labor at Valley Forge. But the 
change had come. Greene had been appointed Quarter- 
master, Steuben Inspector, the intrigues of Mr. Conway and 
his friends been exposed and brought to naught, the last 
attempt at conciliation without independence had been re- 
jected by the Congress, and with the early days of May had 
arrived the news of the alliance of America and France. 
It was a rude awakening for the British army after its 
winter's debauch to find itself master solely of the ground 
it occupied, the King respected only where his army was — 
the rebels stronger and better disciplined than ever, and 
encouraged by the news from Europe that seemed to loyal 
ears so distressing. The campaign of 1777 had accom- 
plished nothing — the victories of Howe had been fruitless 
— the defeats of Burgoyne disastrous — the winter in the 
rebel capital fatal to the royal cause. Not one prediction 
of loyal prophets had come true. Defeat had neither dis- 
heartened nor destroyed the rebel army — the loss of the 
capital had transferred to a distant village instead, of dis- 
persing the Continental Congress — the power of the Re- 
bellion remained unbroken, its heart alive, its limbs more 
vigorous than ever. In a word, Philadelphia had proved 
a second Capua, and the saying of shrewd Franklin had 
come true : " Sir William Howe had not taken Philadel- 
phia — Philadelphia had taken Sir William Howe."* 

The announcement of the treaty between France and the 
Americans, followed by the news of a declaration of war 

* Parton's Life of Franklin, vol. ii. p. 281. There quoted from 
Bowring's Bentham, vol. x. p. 527. 



MONMOUTH. 355 

against Great Britain, was of sinister importance to the 
British in Philadelpliia. Threatenal by a hostile army, 
and surrounded as they were by an enemy's country, a 
French fleet at the mouth of the Delaware would put them 
in great peril. The time for conquest had gone by ; it had 
become now a question of escape and safety. The season 
was too far advanced for an attack on the camp at Valley 
Forge. The army of Washington had been largely in- 
creased, and his naturally strong position strengthened 
since the winter ceased. The country swarmed with scouts 
and partisans and spies. The vigilance of the Americans 
was untiring : McLane and Harry Lee kept the neighbor- 
hood of the city in constant agitation — the banks of the 
Delaware might at any time intercept the shipping — the 
French fleet would perhaps soon arrive — to remain in 
Philadelphia would increase the danger. What was to be 
done ? An escape to New York across the Jerseys seemed 
the only chance, and the sooner that was attempted the 
better. On the 11th of May, Howe announced to the 
army his departure for Europe and the appointment of Sir 
Henry Clinton to the command.* On the 14th it was or- 
dered that the heavy baggage should be made ready. f On 
the 20th the " several corps were directed to put on board 
their transports every kind of baggage they could possibly 
do without in the field,"J and five days later — "to send 
on board their baggage-ships the women and children and 
the men actually unfit to march."§ The preparations for 
departure were rapidly and well made, and on the 17th of 



* Manuscript Ordei-ly Book of the British Army found on the field 
of Monmouth. A transcript is in the Library of the Historical So- 
ciety of Pennsylvania. 

flbid. " Jlbid. Ubid. 



356 MONMOUTH. 

June, at four iu the morning, Lieutenant-General Knyp- 
hausen and General Grant crossed the river with a large 
division and all the wagons and baggage.* At daybreak on 
the 18tli the remainder of the army followed them. The 
departure was hurried and almost noiseless.f The troops 
marched down toward League Island and were ferried over 
to Gloucester Point. " They did not go away," wrote an 
eye-witness, " they vanished."^ It must have seemed so to 
some of them who came near being left behind. The Hon. 
Cosmo Gordon, on that memorable morning, rose for an 
instant into the notice of posterity, as he sprang out of bed, 
belated, and hurried to the wharf in search of a boat to 
take him into Jersey. Hardly had he found one and 
started for the other side when Allen McLane's light-horse- 
men came galloping into town.§ That night the British 
army encamped at Haddonfield.H It consisted of about 
fourteen thousand men. A few of the Hessians, the sick, 
the camp-followers, and the Tory refugees, of whom there 
were a number, had embarked on the ships in the river 
destined for New York. Notwithstanding the strict and 
repeated orders to the contrary, the camp-followers were 
numerous, and the train of baggage nearly twelve miles 
long.^ On the morning of the 19th Clinton moved with 
three brigades to Evesham, eight miles from Haddonfield, 

* Manuscript Orderly Book, supra, p. 355. 

t Bell's Journal: New Jersey Historical Society's Proceedings, 
vol. vi. p. 15. 

X Du Simitiere to Colonel Lamb. Vide Life of John Lamb, p. 213. 

§ Recollections of a Lady: Watson's Annals of Philadelphia, vol. 
ii. p. 286. 

II Bell's Journal: New Jersey Historical Society's Proceedings, 
vol. vi. p. 15, 

\ Clinton's Letter to Lord George Germaine : Lee Papers, vol. ii. 
p. 463. 



MONMOUTH. 357 

Leslie commanding the advance, and Knypliauseii following 
with the Hessians and two brigades of British.* The 
country had by this time become alarmed. The militia 
had sprung to arms in all quarters of the State. Familiar 
as they had been with the presence of the enemy from the 
beginning of the war, the Jerseymen had become proficient 
in partisan warfare. The State was thoroughly patriotic. 
It had suffered more perhaps than any other from the dep- 
redations of the enemy. Beginning in 1776, the armies 
had crossed and re-crossed from the Hudson to the Dela- 
ware, and at no period of the struggle was the soil of New 
Jersey destined to be free from the irruptions of the Brit- 
ish. The wise and patriotic Livingston, who was then the 
governor, had foreseen the danger of a new invasion, and 
prepared to meet it, and the tramp of Clinton's army was 
the signal at which the armed yeomen sprung as it were out 
of the very ground. Philemon Dickinson, of Trenton, 
their commander, prepared to harass the enemy at every 
point, and detached bodies were ordered to break the 
bridges in their way and hang upon their flanks and rear. 
Hardly had tlie advance-guard left Haddonfield, on the 
19th, before it was attacked by a body of militia, and a 
sharp skirmish followed.f On the 20th Clinton reached 
Mount Holly,! on the 22d the Black Horse, seven miles 
farther on.§ At five in the morning of the 23d he moved 
to Crosswicks.y A lively skirmish delayed him at the 
bridge across the creek ; but the next day he arrived at 
Allentown.^ Up to this point tiie British commander 
had been uncertain whether to push to New York by the 
way of Brunswick, or turn eastward and seek the protection 

* Bell's Journal : New Jersey Historical Society's Proceedings, 
vol. vi. p. 15. 
tibid. t Ibid. § Ibid., p. 16. || Ibid. U Ibid. 



358 



MONMOUTH. 



of the fleet at SaiKly Hook. The information which he 
gained at Crosswicks decided him. The whole American 
army had crossed the Delaware and was advancing in his 
front* 

Washington had lost no time. Convinced tliat the 
British wonld soon evacnatc Philadelphia and try to (!ross 
the JerseySjt he had issued orders to prepare for the con- 
tingency nearly three weeks before. For the past fortnight 
he had had everything in readiness.^ On the 1 8th of June, 
at eleven a.m., the news reached him that the enemy had 
gone.§ At three o'clock Charles Lee, with Poor's, Hunting- 
ton's, and Varnum's brigades, crossed the Schuylkill in full 
march for Coryell's Ferry, and at five Wayne followed with 
three brigades of Pennsylvanians.|| Tlie Jersey brigade of 
Maxwell had already been ordered to join General Dickinson 
and co-operate in his efforts to detain the enemy.^ On the 
19th Washington followed with the whole army.** The 
heat was intolerable, the weather rainy, and the roads bad. ft 
It was not until the 21st that the army was safely over the 
river and encamped in Jersey.|| The British were approach- 
ing Crosswicks. The country was alive with rumors and 
excitement. The enemy were reported to be in force, with 



* Clinton's Letter to Lord George Oermaine. Vide Lee Papers, 
vol. ii. p. 4ri2. 

f Sparks's Washington, vol. v. pp. 374, 376, 380, 381, 387. 

X Lee Papers, vol. ii. pp. 40G-408. 

§ Sparks's Washington, vol. v. p. 409. 

II Diary of Joseph Clark : New Jersey Historical Society's Pro- 
ceedings, vol. vii. p. 106. 

\ Sparks's Washington, vol. v. pp. 386-7. 
*-;;- Washington to his brother: Ibid., p. 431. 

tt Washington to President of Congress, June 28, 1778: Ibid., p. 
420. 

X% Washington to his brother: Ibid., p. 431. 



MONMOUTH. 359 

an immense bao-rao-e-train and a host of followers, who com- 
mitted all sorts of depredations as they marched.* Accounts 
of plundered farms and burned homesteads came thick and 
fast. Their slow adv^ance led Washington to think that they 
wished a general action and sought to draw him into the 
low country to the south and east. Detaching Morgan with 
six hundred men to reinforce Maxwell and watch them 
close at hand, he marched to Hopewell, where he remained 
until the 25th. f Summoning a council of war, he put the 
question whether a battle should be fought. Greene, La- 
fayette, Du Portail, and Wayne urged, as one of them has 
told us, "that it would be disgraceful and humiliating to 
allow the enemy to cross the Jerseys in tranquillity"! — that 
his rear might be attacked without serious risk, and that 
he ought to be followed closely, and advantage taken of the 
first favorable opportunity to attack him. But the majority 
held other views. § It was argued that much was to be lost 
by defeat and little gained by victory. That the French 
alliance insured the final triumjjh of the cause, and it would 
only be a risk to attempt a battle with the British army, 
which several declared had never been so excellent or so 
well disciplined. This view prevailed chiefly because of 
the earnest eloquence and great reputation of him who urged 
it on the council. 1| Charles Lee, the second in command, 
was a native of England, and about forty-seven years of 
age. An ensign in the British array at twelve, he had 
risen to be lieutenant-colonel. He had served in the old 
French war, and in Portugal against the Spanish, and at 



* See letter in " Pennsylvania Packet" of July 14, 1778. 
f Sparks's Washington, vol. v. p. 422. 
X Memoirs of Lafayette, \ol. i. p. 51. § Ibid. 

II Ibid., p. 50. Also Sparks, vol. v. p. 552. 



360 



MONMOUTH. 



one time had been a major-general in the Polish service. 
Of unquestioned bravery, he had distinguished himself by 
several exploits, which his excessive vanity would not suffer 
to be forgotten. Taken at his own estimation rather than at 
his real value, as such a man is apt to be, he had won without 
a stroke of his sword the most exaggerated reputation 
among the Americans for military genius and experience. 
A soldier of fortune, he eared little at heart for the princi- 
ples for which the colonies were contending, as the selfish 
terms on wliicli he entered their employment showed, but 
he had rendered the cause essential service, and enjoyed 
a reputation second only to that of Washington. Indeed, 
there were many who, a little while before, would have 
been glad to have seen the names reversed, and some who 
still felt with an anonymous writer, when at the moment 
that Washington's virtues were keeping the army togetlier 
at Valley Forge, he cried for " a Gates, a Lee, or a Con- 
way." Accustomed to be revered as an authority, Lee 
spoke with earnestness and even eloquence. He had lately 
returned from more than a year's captivity. He was ac- 
quainted with the character of Clinton. He knew the effi- 
ciency of the British army — he had had great experience 
in war. His courage was known, his character trusted, his 
fidelity unquestioned, his arguments ingenious, his language 
eloquent. His views prevailed, and it was decided only 
to harass the enemy. Charles Scott of Virginia was sent 
forward to join Dickinson, and the army marched to Kings- 
ton.* But after the council had dissolved Hamilton, La- 
fayette, and Greene urged more vigorous measures ; some 
of the others changed their minds — the chief himself in- 
clined to run the risk, and it was decided to seek battle.f 



* Sparks's Washington, vol. v. p. 423. 
f Memoirs of Lafayette, vol. i. p. 51. 



MONMOUTH. 361 

Accordingly, on the 25tli, tliree thousand men were ordered 
to join Scott and approach the enemy.* The command of 
this body naturally belonged to Lee. But disgusted at the 
altered plan, that officer declined to undertake it, and it was 
given to Lafayette. Hardly had the latter marched, how- 
ever, when Lee changed his mind. The detachment was a 
separate command — he would be criticised if he allowed a 
junior to assume it — he besought Washington to let him 
have it after all.f Disturbed by this and anxious not to 
wound Lafayette, the Commander-in-Chief settled the 
difficulty by giving Lee a thousand men, with orders to 
overtake the former, when his seniority would give him 
command of the whole.J; 

This was on the 26th of June. On the morning before, 
the British march at five o'clock had revealed what Sir 
Henry Clinton had decided to do. Finding Washington 
approaching, he turned eastward and made for Sandy Hook. 
Sending the baggage forward under Knyphausen, he fol- 
lowed slowly with the main part of his army.§ On the 
27th he encamped at Monmouth Court-House.|| Meantime 
the Americans had not been idle. All the way from Cross- 
wicks, Dickinson and Morgan had hung upon the British 
flanks.^ The main American army had been detained at 
Cranberry by rain, and the advance retarded by want of 
provisions (Wayne's detachment obliged to halt at mid-day 

* Lee Papers, vol. ii. p. 413. Also Lafayette's Memoirs, vol. i. 
p. 51. 

t Lee Papers, vol. ii. p. 417. 

X Sparks, vol. v. pp. 418-19. 

§ Clinton to Lord George Germaine. Vide Lee Papers, vol. ii. 
p. 462. 

II Manuscript Orderly Book. 

1[ Washington to President of Congress. Vide Sparks, vol. v, 
p. 424. 

24 



362 MONMOUTH. 

on the 26th because it was " abnost starving"),* but on the 
morning of the 27th Lafayette and Lee eifected ajunctionf 
between Cranberry and Englishtown. The two armies 
were now less than five miles apart. It was evident to the 
commanders of both that the last moment for a battle had 
arrived. A few miles beyond Monmouth the British would 
reach the high ground of Middletowu, when it would be 
impossible to cut them off and dangerous to follow. J If a 
blow was to be struck, now or never was the time. The 
orders of Washington were explicit. On the afternoon of 
the 27th he sent for Lee and the brigadiers of his com- 
mand, told them he wished the enemy to be attacked 
next morning, and desired General Lee to concert with 
his subordinates some plan of action. Five o'clock was 
named as the time for a conference, but when the officers 
called, Lee dismissed them with the remark that it was 
not possible to make a plan beforehand.§ The advance 
lay for the night at Englishtown, the main body of the 
Americans three miles farther to the westward. The 
British were encamped along the road, their right resting 
on the forks of the roads to Middletown and Shrewsbury, 
the baggage in charge of the Hessians placed near the 
Court-House, the left extending toward Allentown about 
three miles. || The little village of Monmouth Court- 
House had grown up at the intersection of three roads — 



* Hamilton to Washington : Lee Papers, vol. ii. p. 420. 

t Ogden's Testimony: Ibid., vol. iii. p. 65. 

X Sparks, vol. v. p. 425. 

^ Testimony of Generals Scott and Wayne : Lee Papers, vol. iii. 
pp. 2, 4. [The "Lee Papers" to which frequent reference is made 
in this oration are papers relating to Lee's trial by court-martial, 
published by the New York Historical Society. — Ed.] 

11 Sparks, vol. v. p. 424. 



MONMOUTH. 363 

that on wliicli the Britisli were marching, another which led 
northward toward Amboy, and a third which came from 
Englishtown and Cranberry. A few honses clustered about 
the wooden Court-House, wliich stood on the spot where we 
are gathered to-day. Long settled as the country had been, 
much of it remained uncleared. The undulating plain 
through which the road ran northeastwardly to Middletown 
was open, but the way to Cranberry soon after leaving the 
Court-House plunged into woods, which lined it for several 
miles. 

It was the night of Saturday, the 27th of June. Imag- 
ine, if you can, the scene : the little village about the Court- 
House, full of soldiers in scarlet — the baggage-wagons 
drawn together in the open ground to the southward — the 
crackling of the fires as the troops get supper — the neighing 
of many horses picketed along the road — here an officer 
riding by, there a guard marching to its post — tlie hum of 
voices — the innumerable noises of the camp growing fainter 
as the evening draws on — and at last the quiet of the sum- 
mer night, broken only by the steady footfalls of the senti- 
nels and the barking of a dog at some distant farm-house 
or the stamping of some restless horse. Who can foresee 
that to-morrow a deed shall be done that shall consecrate 
for all time this quiet Jersey village, and that the bene- 
dictions of a grateful people shall descend forever upon 
Monmouth Court-House ! 

By ten o'clock all is hushed. It is a hot night, w^ithout 
a breath of wind. The woods in the northwest are as still 
as death, their leaves drooping and motionless, and the 
summer sky is unobscured by a single cloud. A sharp 
lookout is kept down the road and on the edge of the 
woods towards Englishtown, for in the afternoon a deserter 
has come in with the information that " the rebels ai'e ex- 



364 MONMOUTH. 

tended along our left flank, and are very numerous."* But 
the darkness passes without the sign of an enemy. At the 
early dawn there is bustle and noise in the camp about the 
Court-House. The reveille sounds and the Hessians are 
astir. The air is full of the noise of neighing horses and 
chattering men. The baggage- wagons begin to move into 
the road to Middletown, the line of march is formed, and 
as the sun rises, about half-past four, Knyphausen's division 
has begun to move.f Five o'clock comes, and with it day- 
light. The fresh breath of the morning is pleasant after 
the hot night, but the cloudless sky and the heavy air 
jiromise a trying day. All along the road the camp is 
stirring, the different regiments forming into line — the Light 
Infantry and Hessian Grenadiers on the right, the Guards, 
the First and Second Grenadiers, the Highlanders, the loyal 
battalions, and the Queen's Rangers each in turn. At six 
the hot day has begun, but it is nearly eight before the 
column has started. It is a splendid sight, and one that 
this quiet county will never see again, this perfectly-ap- 
pointed army moving with its long train of artillery and 
baggage along the road. Here is the Hessian : "a towering, 
brass-fronted cap, mustaches covered with the same material 
that colors his shoes, his hair, plastered with tallow and 
flour, tightly drawn into a long appendage reaching from 
the back of his head to his waist, his blue uniform almost 
covered by the broad belts sustaining his cartouch-box, his 
brass-hilted "feword, and his bayonet; a yellow waistcoat 
with flaps, and yellow breeches met at the knee by black 



* Bell's Journal : New Jersey Historical Society's Proceedings, 
vol. vi. p. 17. 

f Testimony of Captain Mercer : Lee Papers, vol. iii. p. 102 ; also 
Clinton's Letter to Lord George Germaine, vol. ii. p. 463. 



MONMOUTH. 365 

gaiters — thus heavily equipped/'* he moves " like an autom- 
aton" down the road. See the British Grenadier, tall and 
stalwart, with smooth-shaven face and powdered hair, on 
his head a pointed cap of black leather fronted with a 
gilded ornament — his coat of scarlet, with collar and cuffs 
of buif trimmed with red — a broad, white leather strap 
over the left shoulder carrying his cartridge-box — one over 
the right bears his bayonet-scabbard which hangs at his 
left thigh, and where they cross on his breast there is a 
plate of brass with the number of his regiment. His 
breeches of white are protected by long black leggins.f 
The accoutrements of all are in perfect order, their equip- 
ment complete, and one after another the regiments break 
into column and march toward the east. The sun has 
already risen above the high ground near the sea, the birds 
that have been twittering in the branches have ceased to 
sing — Knyphausen with the long train of heavily lumber- 
ing baggage has crossed the open plain, and still the lines 
of scarlet are passing by the little Court-House. Where 
are the Americans ? — the chance to fight a battle is almost 
gone. 

Somewhere in that still and silent wood Dickinson's 
militia have been w^atching through the night. With the 
first noise in the British camp they are alert. No move- 
ment of the enemy escapes them, and as Knyphausen be- 
gins his march a messenger gallops off at full speed through 
the woods. He dashes into camp at five o'clock. An 
order is at once sent to General Lee to follow and attack 
"unless there should be very powerful reasons to the 

* Diinlap's History of the American Theatre, London, vol. i. pp. 
85-6. 

t Moorsom's History of the Fifty-second Regiment. 



366 MONMOUTH. 

contrary,"* and the main army is ordered under arms. 
Meantime Lee has liis detachment ready. Butler of 
Pennsylvania with two hundred men marches first; Scott's 
brigade and a part of Woodford's, about six hundred, fol- 
low ; Varnum's brigade, under Lieutenant-Colonel Olney, 
six hundred strong ; Wayne's detachment of one thousand ; 
Scott with another of fourteen hundred, and Maxwell with 
about one thousand bringing up the rear. Distributed ^ } 

among these are twelve pieces of artillery.f At seven 
o'clock the advance has reached the old Presbyterian 
Church on the side of the road, east of Englishtown, and 
is distant from the British about three miles. A road 
nearly straight leads from this point to the Court-House. 
Let us take a look at the country that lies between. It is 
a rolling country, well covered with timber. Just beyond 
the Church, as one goes towards Monmouth, the road de- i 

scends a hill and crosses a morass, through which a stream " 

of water flows toward the south and west. A long causeway 
of logs has made the place passable,! and on the eastern side 
the hill rises quickly to a considerable elevation. The road 
now continues through a piece of timber, which is large 
and heavy on the left, but just beyond the edge of it, on 
the right, are the open fields of three farms, known as 
Tennent's, Wikoif's, and Carr's. The two latter are di- 
vided by a deep ravine, which crosses the road at right 
angles, about half-way between the causeway and the Court- 
House. The wood on the left extends almost to the village, 
and covers the side of a bluff wdiich forms the western 

* Testimony of Lieutenant-Colonel Meade : Lee Papers, vol. iii. 
pp. 7, 8 ; also of Captain Mercer, p. 102. 

f Testimony of Wayne : Ibid., p. 22. 

J Ralph Schenck's statement. Vide Historical Magazine, 1861, 
vol. V. p. 220. 



MONMOUTH. 3g7 

boundary of the plain of Monmouth. Beneath this bluff, 
running due north from the Court-House, is a deep and 
almost impassable morass. There are but three houses be- 
tween the Church, at which the advance has halted, and the 
village, the first called the Parsonage, in the open field, just 
after one ascends the hill, and the second and third, known 
as Wikoif 's and Carr's, on the western and eastern sides of 
the ravine that separates them. The morass westward of 
the Parsonage begins more than a mile to the northeast, and, 
following the stream which makes it, sweeps around between 
the hills to the southeast, where it joins another that runs 
westwardly. It is a bog a couple of hundred yards in 
width, deep and impassable, save at the causeway. The 
distance from the Court-House to the ravine between Carr's 
house and Wikoif 's is about a mile ; to the causeway, across 
the large morass, a trifle more than two miles. Such is the 
country that separates the armies.* As the advance under 
Lee approaches the long causeway, a few scattering shots are 
heard and it is halted. Scott's brigade have advanced up 
the morass, the rest formed upon the western hill.f A few of 
Dickinson's militia, down the road tow^ard the Court-House, 
have encountered a flanking party of the British. As the 
troops halt, a stout, ruddy-faced officer rides up. It is 
Anthony Wayne, whom Lee has summoned to command 
the advance. There is a report that the enemy are near. 
Wayne takes his spy-glass, but can discover only a party of 
the country people.| Dickinson comes in haste to Lee. He 
is sure that the enemy are marching from the Court-House. 
Lee doubts the story, but orders a brigade to form at the 
left, facing a road by which Dickinson expects the enemy. § 

* IMap in Carrington's Battles of the American Revolution. 

t Wayne's Testimony: Lee Papers, vol. iii. p. 18. % Ibid. I Ibid. 



368 



MONMOUTH. 



But the intelligence is contradictory, and, after a few min- 
utes' delay, Lee in impatience pushes the troops forward 
across the causeway. 

Down the road toward the Court-House they move 
rapidly, marching briskly in spite of the heat, which by 
this time has become oppressive. They are a sad contrast 
to the well-equipped enemy they go to meet. They have 
no uniforms. Linen shirts and coats of butternut, home 
spun, and made, and dyed, are the best among them, and 
few have these. '' They are so nearly naked that it is a 
shame to bring them into the field,"* says Major Jameson of 
Maryland, and Lee complains that tliey have no uniforms, 
colors, or marks to distinguish the regiments from each other. 
But they march well and with a soldierly air, thanks to 
the training of Steuben at Valley Forge. About half-past 
eight o'clock they approach the Court-House. The rear- 
guard of the British has passed through it, but a party of 
both infantry and horse are drawn up in the open ground 
to the north westward, t The Americans halt under cover 
of the woods, and Lee and Wayne ride forward to recon- 
noitre. A messenger stops Lee, and Wayne goes on alone.| 
There appear to be about five hundred foot, and in front 
of them three hundred horsemen — the famous Queen's 
Rangers Hussars, under the command of Lieutenant-Col- 
onel Simcoe.§ Wayne orders Butler out of the woods 
into the open close to the Court-House. The enemy slowly 
retire as the Americans approach. A few of Butler's men 
fire, and the Rangers fall back with the infantry pre- 



* Bland Papers, vol. i. p. 97. 

t Wayne's Testimony: Lee Papers, vol. iii. p. 18. % Ibid. 

§ Siracoe's Journal, p. 68; also Bell's Journal: New Jersey His- 
torical Society's Proceedings, vol. vi. p. 17. 



MONMOUTH. 369 

cipitately into the village.* Long shall that spot be neg- 
lected and forgotten, but the time shall come when, on 
another 28th of June, the sons of America, beneath peaceful 
skies, shall build with pious services upon that sloping field 
a monument to mark forever the place where the first shot 
was fired and the Battle of Monmouth was begun ! And 
now, as the enemy are apparently moving rapidly oif into 
the plain, Butler files to the left of their left flank, and 
sends word to Wayne that the enemy are retreating.f The 
General, in reply, gallops up and halts the Pennsylvanians 
in the edge of a wood, close to the Court-House, from which 
they can see the British in regular order, horse, foot, and 
artillery, retreating toward the eastward. It is evident 
that they are leaving the ground in haste. Meantime the 
detachments of Scott, Grayson, and Varnum have halted 
on the side of the morass which bounds the plain of Mon- 
mouth,! half a mile or more to the northward of the position 
of AYayne and Butler. From all these points the enemy 
can be seen moving rapidly out of the village across the open 
plain. § Hot-headed Wayne grows impatient. At the edge 
of the wood he has found a place where the morass can be 
crossed, and orders Butler forward. At the same moment a 
swarthy man on horseback gallops up to Lee. He has been 
near the enemy, and is sure they are a rear-guard of only 
one thousand men — considerably separated from the main 
body. He offers to take a detachment and double their 
riffht flank. It is black David Foreman — commander of 



* Butler's Testimony: Lee Papers, vol. iii. p. 44. 
t Ilnd. 

% Scott's Testimony: Ibid., vol. iii. p. 28; also Grayson's, p. 36; 
Olney's, p. 127 ; Lee's, p. 182. 

I Wayne's Testimony : Ibid., p. 20. 



370 



MONMOUTH. 



the Monmouth County militia — the terror of the Tories.* 
Lee spitefully replies, " I know my business," and Fore- 
man retires in disgust.t But what is that business ? Surely 
not to let the enemy move away under his guns as if upon 
parade. The precious moments are flying — tiie Rangers in 
the rear-guard are half a mile out of the village already, 
continuing their march, when Captain Mercer, of Lee's 
staff, rides up to him. He has been down the road toward 
the Court-IIouse, and has seen a large encampment of the 
enemy, which they have just left, for the chairs are stand- 
ing and water lies there freshly spilt ; a countryman tells 
him that there is a strong force, about two thousand, still 
behind the Court-House.| " Then I shall take them," says 
Lee,§ and orders the detachments on the left to march 
into the plain, to turn their right. They quit the woods, 
descend the bluff, cross the morass, and advance nearly 
half a mile into the plain — Grayson's in advance, Jackson's 
a hundred yards behind, Scott's next to Jackson's, and Maxj 
well's Jerseymen in the rear, on the outer edge of the morass. 
Wayne is now far in front in the open ground. On his right, 
on a little elevation, he has posted Eleazer Oswald, with 
two guns.ll Varnum's brigade, of the Rhode Island line, 
is on the left, Butler's regiment in front, in the rear of all 
Wesson, Livingston, and Stewart. Suddenly the enemy halt 
and form in line of battle. A regiment of cavalry sup- 
ported by infantry advance towards Butler, and several guns 
to the eastward open fire. Oswald replies effectively with 
his two pieces on the height, and Butler prepares to receive 
an attack. Down come the British cavalry in full charge. 



* Barber and Howe's Historical Collection of New Jersey, p. 
t Foreman's Testimony: Lee Papers, vol. iii. p. 25. 
:|: Mercers Testimony: Ibid., p. 106. | Ibid. 

II Oswald's Testimony : Ibid., pp. 132-3. 



546. 



MONMOUTH. 371 

Butler reserves ]iis fire till tliey are near, -wlieii a well-di- 
rected volley breaks them, and they retire in disorder through 
the infantry, throwing them into confusion.* At this the 
British suddenly turn back and march towards the Court- 
House. They appear very strong; it is evident that the 
whole rear division has returned to ])revent a demonstration 
against the baggage. Wayne sends to Lee for more troops. 
Lee ansAvers that it is a feint,f and that he does not wish the 
enemy to be vigorously attacked until his flank is exposed. 
The British approach the Court-House in great force. Lee 
directs Lafayette to fall back to the Court-House with the 
brigade of Varnum, and Stewart's and Livingston's regi- 
ments.| Wayne, meantime, is chafing with impatience. The 
enemy are crossing his front — he cannot get trooj)s enough 
to strike them with effect, and Oswald's ammunition has 
given out.§ Just at this moment General Scott rides up — a 
hot-headed Virginian, as gallant and full of fight as Wayne 
himself. From his command on the left, far out in the 
plain, he has seen the troops under Lafiiyette apparently 
retreating toward the Court-House. Alarmed at this, and 
having tried in vain to get his cannon across the morass, 
he has ordered his men to retire behind it and form in the 
woods beyond, from which they came. Here he has left 
them, and galloped down to learn what is the matter.|| 
Wayne is in equal wonderment. One of his aides has just 
come from General Lee with the startling information that 
the whole right is falling back in haste from the Court- 
House : but he brings no orders. Together Scott and 



* Butler's Testimony : LeePapers, vol.iii.p. 44; also Wayne's, p. 20. 

t Lee's Defence : Ibid., p. 194. 

X Lafayette's Testimony: Ibid., p. 12. 

§ Oswald's Testimony: Ibid., p. 134. 

II Scott's Testimony : Ibid., p. 28. 



372 MONMO UTH. 

Wayne ride there. The troops have already left. Wayne 
sends an aide to Lee to beg that they might be ordered back 
to the place from which they had retired, the enemy being 
still a mile away. Major Fishbourne returns. He has found 
General Lee, whose only answer is that he will see General 
Wayne himself.* It is now about eleven o'clock. Furious 
with disappointment, Wayne sends a third time. Will not 
General Lee halt the main body to cover the retreat of Gen- 
eral Scott? His aides return without an answer ;t the troops 
are still retiring in some confusion nearly a mile in the rear, 
in front of the ravine by Carr's House. The enemy are 
close at hand. Wayne orders Butler out of the plain in 
haste,;[; while he and Scott watch in the orchard near the 
village. At this moment up gallops Richard Meade. He 
is an aide of Washington's, and has ridden forward by the 
General's orders at the first sound of the cannonading. He 
has met the troops retreating in disorder near the defile by 
Carr's House. There he has found General Lee, who tells 
him that they are all in confusion, but has no message for 
the Commander-in-Chief. Meade gallops to the village ; 
the enemy are there, and already the head of their column 
appears this side the Court-House.§ Scott hurries to his 
command, 1 1 while Wayne retires slowly with Meade toward 
Carr's House, pursued by the enemy's horsemen. The 
British advance is now between Scott and the retreating 
troops with Lee and Lafayette. A rapid march through 
the woods to the northward alone enables the former to 

* Fishbourne's Testimony : Lee Papers, vol. iii.- pp. 47-8 ; also 
Scott's, p. 28 ; and Wayne's, p. 21. 
t Lee Papers, vol. ii. p. 440. 

X Letter of Scott and Wayne to Washinifton : Ibid. 
I'Meade's Testimony: Ibid., vol. iii. p. 63. 
II Letter of Scott and Wayne to Washington : Ibid., vol. ii. p. 440. 



MONMOUTH. 373 

rejoin the array.* He comes out into the large morass, and 
crosses it far to the north and eastward of the old Presby- 
terian Church. Meantime, "wliat has become of General 
Lee? Wlien the enemy first turned back in force he was 
on the left, watching, with the intention of turning their 
right flank. Observing them to approach in force, he di- 
rected the troops on the right to retire and form near the 
Court-House. Arrived there, and finding the position less 
strong than he supposed, he gave orders to fall back.f 
Confusion followed. The heat was intense. The men were 
nearly fainting with fatigue. The horses of the aides-de- 
camp could hardly stand. J Orders that were given were 
not delivered, and orders were delivered that had never been 
given by the General. Contradictory directions made mat- 
ters worse. Near Carr's House a regiment was posted at a 
fence, and presently withdrawn. Du Portail insisted that 
the position here was a strong one. Lee declared that it 
was execrable, and commanded by an eminence on the 
British side.§ Back the troops kept falling — forming now 
in line, and the next minute ordered to retire. No one 
knew why or whither, nor did Lee take pains to check the 
disorder. The officers were furious, the men dejected. 
There had been no fighting to speak of — the enemy did not 
seem dangerously strong — the chance to fight him on good 
terms had appeared so favorable ; — it was inexplicable. It 
is now nearly twelve o'clock. In front of the ravine near 
Carr's House there is a temporary halt. General Lee him- 

* Cilley's Testimony : Lee Papers, vol. iii. p. 33. 

t Lee's Defence: Ibid., p. 183. 

% Mercer's Testimony: Ibid., p. Ill; Stewart's Testimony, p. 40 ; 
Tilghman's Testimony, pp. 80-2. 

§ Du Portail's Testimony: Ibid., p. 139; also Lee's Defence, p. 
184. 



374 MONMOUTH. 

self orders Jackson's Massachusetts regiment to form behind 
a fence, but hardly has it done so when he commands it to 
retire beyond the ravine.* A part of Yarnum's brigade 
halts for ten minutes in an orchard, but the enemy coming 
on rapidly, they too retire beyond the ravine.f As the troops 
are falling back a countryman rides up to General Lee. It 
is Peter Wikoff, who lives in the farm-house between the 
Parsonage and Carr's. He knows the country well — what 
can he do? Lee asks him where there is a strong position 
to which the army can retire. He points to the west and 
south. But there is an almost impassable morass in the 
way. It can be crossed on logs. Too late to make a bridge. 
Beyond the causeway then there are high hills. Lee urges 
him to ride back and halt some regiment on the ground.| 
He gallops off at speed. All is disorder, the troops retiring 
rapidly, so fagged with the heat that many faint. Here 
is Olney, with the Rhode Islanders, crossing the ravine ; 
yonder, near Carr's House, is Stewart of Pennsylvania, 
keeping his panting men together ;§ the gallant Ramsey is 
close at hand ;|| Maxwell has crossed the ravine, and is form- 
ing his Jerseymen in the woods on the north of the road ;^ 
while Oswald tries to get his guns across the defile.** 

All is in uproar and confusion ; shouts of go back ! go 
back ! drive on ! drive on Iff are heard above the din, and 
all the while the dropping fire of musketry in the rear 
shows that the enemy is close at hand. Five thousand men 

* Jackson's Testimony: Lee Papers, vol. iii. p. 124. 

t Olney's Testimony: Ibid., p. 127. 

X Wikoff 's Deposition : Ibid., pp. 172-3. 

I Stewart's Testimony : Ibid., p. 40. 

il Oswald's Testimony: Ibid., p. 136. 

^ Maxwell's Testimony : Ibid., p. 92. 
** Oswald's Testimony: Ibid., p. 135. 
ft Jackson's Testimony: Ibid., p. 124; also Ogden's, p. 134. 



MONMOUTH. 375 

have fallen back iu disorder nearly two miles, in the face 
of a constant and vigorous pursuit. It is extraordinary 
that there is no panic. But both men and officers are too 
angry to be frightened ; there is no breaking of the ranks ; 
no running among the troops — it is a sullen retreat. The 
men halt at the first order, form like veterans, and only re- 
tire when commanded to do so. Some faint with heat and 
fall. All are panting for water — the sweat streaming from 
them, their tongues dry and swollen, their faces flushed, 
their eyes bloodshot. The horses are completely broken 
down. Many refuse to carry their riders, and half of the 
officers are on foot. And so through the hot wood and be- 
neath the blazing sun, down one side of the ravine and up 
the other, the regiments of Lee's command fall back in dis- 
order along the road and through the fields of Wikoflf's 
farm, towards the long causeway across the wide morass, on 
the way to Englishtown. 

The day that promised so w'ell has begun in disaster. 
The Americans are in full retreat without a fight. Gray- 
son's Marylanders and Patton's North Carolinians are about 
to cross the causeway — a part of Jackson's Massachusetts 
regiment, under Lieutenant- Colonel Smith, are close behind 
them. Ogden's and Shreve's Jerseymen are descending the 
hill — the heights are covered with the retreating regiments. 
When suddenly down the western hill, toward the cause- 
w^ay, come at full speed two horsemen. They are Fitzgerald 
and Harrison, of the Commander-in-Chief's staff'.* Riding 
with him, near the Presbyterian Church, they have met a 
countryman on horseback. He has come, he says, from near 
the Court-House, and has heard that our people were retreat- 
ing. General Washington refuses to believe him, for he 

* Tilghman's Testimony: Lee Papers, vol. iii. p. 80. 



376 MONMOUTH. 

has heard no sound except a few discharges of cannon more 
than an hour before. The man points to a fifer, who has 
come up breathless. Yes, says the fifer, in aifright, the 
Continental troops are in retreat. Vexed at the story, which 
he cannot believe, the General orders the man into a light 
horseman's charge and hurries forward.* Fifty paces down 
the road he meets some stragglers — one of them has come 
from the army. All the troops, he says, are falling back. 
The thing looks serious, but still the General will not be- 
lieve it true. He sends Harrison and Fitzgerald forward to 
ascertain the facts. As they descend the hill they encounter 
Grayson's men. Captain Jones declares that the troops be- 
hind are in the same condition as his own.f Lieutenant- 
Colonel Parke's men are in disorder.^ William Smith, of 
Jackson's regiment, cannot imagine why they have retreated ; 
he has lost but a single man.§ Beyond the causeway is 
Aaron Ogden, " exceedingly exasperated," declaring with 
an oath that " the troops are fleeing from a shadow." || 
Shreve, of the next Jersey regiment, smiles bitterly; he 
has retreated by order, but he knows not why. Rhea, his 
lieutenant-colonel, cannot understand it, nor where to go.^f 
Howell, his major, has never seen the like;** and on the 
height General Maxwell confesses that he is wholly in the 
dark.f t The aides push on toward Carr's House. Here Mer- 
cer, of Lee's staif, says with warmth to Harrison, that if he 
will ride to the Court-House he will find reason enough in 
the numbers of the enemy ;|| but Wayne declares that it is 

* Harrison's Testimony: Lee Papers, vol. iii. p. 72; also Tilgh- 
man's, p. 78. 

t Harrison's Testimony : Ibid., p. 72. 

X Ibid. § Ibid., p. 73. 1| Ibid. H Ibid. 

** Tilghnian's Testimony : Ibid., p. SO. 
ft Harrison's Testimony: Ibid., p. 73. %% Ibid. 



MONMOUTH. 377 

impossible to tell the cause of the retreat, for a very select 
body of men have this day been drawn off from troops far 
inferior in number.* And all this while General Lee sits 
for twenty minutes by a fence, without giving an order or 
making an attempt to stop the enemy.f One of the French 
engineers comes to Fitzgerald — the ground he thinks very 
advantageous for stopping the enemy ; he begs for two 
pieces of cannon. Oswald has but four pieces left, the 
others have retreated with their brigades, and his men are 
so fatigued with heat that they are dropping beside the guns. 
But he will post them here, and open on the enemy as they 
approach from the village.| On come the British through 
the open fields, in perfect order, marching in two columns, 
their artillery and horse between them, and Lee retires has- 
tily with some scattered troops beyond the ravine. They 
are within quarter of a mile — the American rear just 
crossing the ravine. The case is desperate. " The most 
sanguine hope," says young Laurens, who has seen it all, 
" scarcely extends ... to an orderly retreat."§ It is an awful 
moment for America. Was it for this that these gallant 
fellows bore the dull tortures of the winter ? Was it for 
this that they have trudged through pouring rain and 
torrid sun — now ankle-deep in mud and now with their 
feet buried in the burning sand? Was it for this that 
they have covered Charles Lee with confidence and honor, 
and gone forth under him from happy homes to meet the 
proudest army in the world ? 

But see yonder in the west — beyond the long causeway 
the troops have stopped retreating ! Grayson and Patton 

* Harrison's Testimony : Lee Papers, vol. iii. p. 74. 

t Meade's Testimony: Ibid., p. 64. 

X Oswald's Testimony: Ibid., pp. 135-6. 

I Ibid., vol. ii. p. 450. 

25 



378 MONMOUTH. 

have halted half-way up ; on this edge of the morass 
Ogden and Shreve are falling into line,* and on the crest 
of the distant hill are the heads of columns, apparently 
advancing. There is a sudden halt as down the hill dashes 
a tall horseman. A group of officers try to follow, but he 
rides too fast. Over the bridge and up the road he rushes 
like the wind, his horse in a lather of sweat as he drives 
the rowels in. Up the hill he comes as fast as his horse 
can run, his manly figure and perfect horsemanship com- 
manding admiration ; his face flushed with excitement, his 
lips compressed, his often languid eye flashing an angry 
fire, his usually white brow as black as night. See him as 
he dashes through the lines — great as he is, never greater 
than to-day — checking the retreat by his very presence, 
arresting disaster by a glance, and in an instant changing 
defeat to victory ! On a sudden he reins his foaming horse, 
and Washington and Lee are face to face. As it was tliree- 
and-twenty years ago, it is to-day ; as on the banks of 
Monongahela so on the heights of Freehold. It is the 
Englishman that shall be beaten and the American that shall 
cover his retreat ; it is the Regular that shall run and the 
Provincial that shall stand his ground ; it is Lee that shall 
lose the day ; it is Washington that shall save the army ! 
And what a contrast ! — the one thin as a skeleton, his feat- 
ures plain, his eyes prominent, his nose enormous, his whole 
appearance singular and unprepossessing ; the other broad, 
with an open countenance and manly air, his figure that of 
an accomplished gentleman, his gestures graceful, his pres- 
ence strangely commanding and impressive. They are al- 
most the same age, but Lee looks old and wrinkled, while 
Washington appears in the prime of unusual health and 

* Tilghman's Testimony: Lee Papers, vol. iii. pp. 80-1. 






MONMOUTH. 379 

vigor: And thus for tlie last time they sit looking at each 
other. But for a moment only, for the Indignation of 
Waslilngton has burst restraint. " What, sir. Is the mean- 
ing of all this?" he asks. In a tone of thunder. "Sir, sir/' 
stammers the other, and Is dumb. " I desire to know, sir, 
the meaning of this disorder and confusion," repeats Wash- 
ington, his aspect in his anger really terrible to see. Lee 
answers confusedly — his orders have been misunderstood 
or disobeyed, particularly by General Scott. He did not 
choose to beard the whole British army with troops In that 
condition, and finally that the whole thing was against his 
opinion. " Whatever your opinion may have been, sir, I 
exj)ected my orders to have been obeyed." " These men 
cannot face the British grenadiers." " They can," cried 
Waslilngton, as he spurred away — " they can do it, and they 
shall !"* Indeed there is not a moment to be lost. Harri- 
son comes up from Carr's House with the news that the 
enemy are but fifteen minutes off, in great strength, ap- 
proaching rapidly. t Washington hurriedly examines the 
ground as Tllghman goes for Lieutenant-Colonel Rhea, who 
knows it well. J It seems fit to make a stand upon, and the 
British must be stopped till the main army can be formed. 
Yonder are Walter Stewart and Nathaniel Ramsey coming 
out of the ravine. The General hastens to them. On 
them, he says, he shall depend to give the enemy a check ;§ 
and under Wayne's eye, who arrives at the moment, the 
two regiments are formed in the woods on the left.|| Wash- 

* This account of the meeting of Washington and Lee is gathered 
from the following authorities : Meade's Testimony, Lee Papers, vol. 
iii. p. 64 ; also McHenry's, p. 78 ; Tilghman's, p. 81 ; Lee's Defence, 
p. 191 ; Papers relating to the Maryland Line ('76 Soc. Pub.), p. 104. 

t Tilghman's Testimony: Lee Papers, vol. iii. p. 81. % Ibid. 

I Harrison's Testimony : Ibid., p. 75. || Ibid. ; also Wayne's, p. 22. 



380 MONMOUTH. 

ington calls for artilleiy. Oswald's pieces have gone by. 
He orders them back at once and posts them on the 
right,* with Livingston's regiment to support them.f By 
this time the British liave entered the wood in front of 
Stewart and Ramsey; their guns open from the centre 
and their cavalry are beginning to traverse the ravine. 
The Battle of Monmouth has begun. Having made 
this hurried disposition of liis troops, Washington hastens 
to tlie right. Here, close to Oswald's cannon, Lee and 
stout Henry Knox are watching the movements of the 
British. "Will you command here, or shall I?" the 
Chief demands of Lee. " If you will, I will go to the 
rear and form the army." " I will," is the answer, "and 
will be one of the last men oif the field."| With a 
word to Knox for more artillery, Washington gallops to 
the rear. The sharp fire of musketry on the left, with 
the skilful practice of Oswald's cannoneers, have checked 
pursuit. The British halt and bring their guns to the 
front. A precious ten minutes has been gained. Mean- 
time, in the rear, the army is coming up. The General is 
already across the causeway and is forming the men rapidly 
uj)on the height. It is a splendid position, the hills in 
semicircle rising steeply from the marsh in front, Avhich 
can only be crossed by the narrow causeway. Greene is on 
the right, Stirling well posted on the left; the practised eye 
of Steuben places the cannon skilfully, while Lafayette, on 
the crest of the ridge, commands the second line. The 
Frenchman, Duplessis de Manduit, is sent with six pieces 
to Comb's Hill, more than half a mile on the extreme right, 

* Fitzgerald's Testimony: Lee Papers, vol. iii. pp. 69, 70. 
t Mercer's Testimony: Ibid., p. 113. 

X Hamilton's Testimony: Ibid., p. 59 ; also Knox's, p. 156 ; Shaw's, 
p. 159; Mercer's, p. 113. 



MONMOUTH. 381 

whence he can enfilade the enemy as they advance.* The 
troops move into place with the precision of trained soldiers, 
better even, says Hamilton, who watches them, than the 
British themselves ;t the guns are posted, and it is just in 
time. For the light-horse have crossed the ravine and 
threaten Oswald's guns, and on the left Stewart and 
Ramsey's men come slowly out of the woods fighting inch 
by inch, Americans and British mixed up together as they 
come. J By Knox's order Oswald falls back a hundred 
yards, repeatedly unlimbering his guns and firing as he 
retreats. The crackling of the musketry is heavy, like a 
thousand bonfires, and every now and then a discharge from 
the artillery checks the red-coats and throws them into 
confusion. Wikoff' s fields are spotted with dead men ; 
brave Ramsey is down wounded and a prisoner ;§ Fitzgerald 
has been hit, and John Laurens slightly, as his horse falls 
dead beneath him.|| Slowly the Americans recede, and as 
slowly the British advance. And now they have reached 
the line between the WikoiFand the Tennent farms — a fence 
grown up with weeds and bushes and small trees that runs 
right across the line of the retreat. A small man rides up 
to Olney, who commands Varnum's brigade, and points to 
the hedge-row.^ He is a youth of two-and-twenty, with 
sharp features and a brilliant eye. His manner is earnest, 
and he speaks with an authority far beyond his years. It 
is Lieutenant-Colonel Alexander Hamilton. The Rhode 

* Barber and Howe's Historical Collection of New Jersey, p. 337. 
t Lee Papers, vol. ii. p. 470. 
% Mercer's Testimony: Ibid., vol. iii. p. J 13. 
§ Life of Knox, p. 57. 
II Correspondence of John Laurens, p. 197. 

T[ Hamilton's Testimony : Lee Papers, vol. iii. p. 60 ; also Olney's, 
p. 127. 



382 MONMOUTH. 

Islanders tlirow themselves behind the hedge-row,* while 
Knox, without a minute's delay, posts two guns on a little 
knoll a few paces in the rear. The British are within a 
dozen rods, advancing to the charge. A volley cracks from 
the hedge-row, and the guns behind open at short range. 
The enemy recoils; the infantry give place to the light- 
horsemen, who charge up within forty yards, but are driven 
back with heavy loss. On come the foot again, when sud- 
denly the guns of Duplessis on Comb's Hill open a cross- 
fire uj^on the right, and tliey stagger and fall back. The 
hedge-row is still held — the field in front strewn with dead, 
the rattle of musketry is incessant, the cannon shake the 
very earth. But the left is turned — Olney's men have be- 
gun to fall behind the hedge — Hamilton is down, his horse 
shot dead, but he gathers himself up, bruised and hurt.f 
The enemy have the woods on the left — their cavalry are 
threatening the right — their front line is nearly at the hedge 
— they outnumber the Rhode Islanders ten to one. Knox 
withdraws the guns ; the Continentals leave the hedge-row ; 
and, covered by the heavy cannonade from the hills in the 
rear, the whole body descends in pretty good order and 
crosses the long causeway.^ It is after two o'clock. The 
British are masters of the woods on the right and the open 
fields up to the hedge-row. 

But where is Wayne ? The old Tennent Parsonage and 
barn lie in a hollow about a hundred yards westward of 
the hedge-row. Behind them ascends a ridge, which pres- 
ently falls rapidly to the morass in front of Greene. Here 
in an orchard behind the barn and Parsonage, about three 
hundred yards in advance of the main army, Wayne awaits 

* Knox's Testimony: Lee Papers, vol. iii. p. 158. 
t Hamilton's Testimony : Ibid., p. 61. 
X Olney's Testimony : Ibid., p. 128. 



MONMOUTH. 383 

attack.* He has a few liundred Pennsylvanians under Wil- 
liam Irvine and Thomas Craig-, a Virginia regiment, and 
several pieces of artillery. Clinton has now brought up the 
flower of his army, and while his batteries engage the Amer- 
icans on the distant heights he orders the grenadiers to dis- 
lodge Wayne. In splendid array his veterans advance, 
their scarlet coats in perfect line, their bayonets gleaming in 
the sunshine. Down they come toward the exposed position 
where the Pennsylvanians lie. A terrific fire opens on them, 
and they stagger and fall back. They rally, reform, and 
advance again to the attack. A second volley greets them, 
and tliey are driven back blinded and broken toward the 
cover of the woods. And all the while the cannon on both 
sides is thundering away. Daniel Morgan hears it yonder at 
Shumais Mills.f He has sent to Lee for orders, but can get 
none, and there, useless, he passes the long afternoon pacing 
like a lion in a cage. Clinton now tries to turn the left. 
The Highlanders attack Lord Stirling furiously, but his 
batteries check them, and his infantry advance and drive 
them back. Lieutenant-Colonel Aaron Burr pursues them 
into the meadow, but an order halts him in the open ground ; 
his brigade suifers heavily — his horse is shot, and Kudolph 
Bunner, lieutenant-colonel of the Pennsylvania line, is 
killed. I Attempting to turn, the right meets with no better 

* The authorities for placing Wayne at the Parsonage with Penn- 
sylvania and Virginia troops, are Langworthy's Memoir of Lee, p. 
17; Kapp's Life of Steuben, p. 161 ; Wayne's Letters, vide Lee 
Papers, vol. ii. p. 448, vol. iii. p. 241 ; Chxrk's Letter to Lee, ibid., 
p. 232; and Letters of General William Irvine, Pennsylvania Maga- 
zine, vol. ii. pp. 147-8. In the first of Wayne's letters referred to 
he says, "Pennsylvania showed the Road to Victory." 

t Graham's Life of Morgan, p. 211. 

X Davis's Memoirs of Burr, vol. i. pp. 127-8. 



384 MONMOUTH. 

fate. Wavne must be driven from his o-round or the King's 
army must retire. 

On the ridge, behind the orchard, Wayne has two cannon 
posted. Their fire is most effective, but the men who serve 
them are fearfully exposed, and have fallen one by one; 
they are worked now with half the requisite force, and still 
the men are dropping. Suddenly as the British approach, 
a matross in the act of ramming the charge throws up his 
arms and falls headlong to the ground. The gun is useless 
and must be withdrawn, for there is none to take his place. 
Aye, but there is, for, yonder, rushing to the front, behold 
a woman ! The wife of the fallen matross, she has been to 
the creek for water to keep the sponge wet. Seeing her 
husband fall, she dashes forward, snatches up the rammer, 
and drives it home with the vigor of a veteran. A moment 
and the priming is ready — another, and the gun belches 
forth in the very faces of the British. There she stands, 
black with powder, in the blinding smoke, the shot raining 
about her, the dead and wounded at her feet, plying the 
rammer with a furious energy, and keeping that heated 
gun busy at its deadly work ! And there in the midst of 
that conflict, the figure of Molly Pitcher, the woman can- 
noneer of Monmouth, goes down to history. But see, Sir 
Henry is ready for his final effort. From the woods on the 
northeast, across the open ground before the hedge-row, in 
the face of a heavy cannonade from the Americans on 
Comb's Hill, the grenadiers advance. Veterans of many 
a well-won field, they move steadily to the attack. The 
picked men of the Royal army, perfect in equipment and 
in the practice of arms, and never more magnificent or 
better handled than to-day, they sweep onward toward 
the little Parsonage and barn. It is a moment of dread- 
ful suspense to the patriots upon the heights. Surely f 






MONMOUTH. 385 

tlie Pennsylvanians Avill be swept like chaif before tliem. 
Nearer and nearer they come, in "magnificently stern array" 
of glowing scarlet and glittering steel, their bayonets fixed, 
advancing silently without a shot, while the cannon on 
the distant hills shakes the earth beneath their feet. Who 
is there to resist them ? A few hundred Pennsylvanians 
drawn up in a little orchard and behind a wooden barn 
and farm-house — a handful of yeomen in their shirt-sleeves, 
armed with old-fashioned muskets, awaiting the charge of 
the British grenadiers. The odds against the Americans 
are fearful, as the well-trained enemy sweeps down. But 
not a man among them moves. Somewhere in that orchard 
is Anthony Wayne himself, watching the foe with steady 
glance, his teeth set, his cheek flushed. " Wait," he tells 
his men, " till they are close at hand, and then pick off the 
king birds."* 

On comes the unbroken column, apparently resistless, in 
the full blaze of the afternoon's sun. In front, in the splen- 
did uniform of a lieutenant-colonel, is their commander, 
Henry Monckton, the Viscount Galway's son, waving his 
sword and calling on the grenadiers to " charge." They 
have swept through the open field, they have passed the 
hedge-row, they have begun to descend the slope beyond, 
their pace quickens, the front rank has almost reached the 
barn — the whole column is in full charge. There is a 
moment of suspense. And then, with a crash, a sheet of 
flame from Parsonage and barn and fence and orchard lea}3s 
forth to meet them, and in an instant a dense cloud of 
smoke has hidden them from view. A moment later the 
cloud has broken, and here and there glimpses can be seen 

* King's Address. Vide New Jersey Historical Society's Pro- 
ceedings, vol. iv. p. 139. 



386 MONMOUTH. 

of men in deadly combat — red- coated grenadiers and yeo- 
men in sliirt-sleeves mixed in inextricable confusion. See 
as the smoke lifts, Wayne's men have leaped the fence 
coatless, their sleeves rolled np,* and dashed into the melee, 
and yonder in the hollow of the field they are fighting 
hand to hand with bayonet thrust and clubbed guns over 
a lifeless body. It is his who a moment ago cheered on his 
men to victory — his breast bloody with wounds, his scarlet 
coat stained and torn as the fight rages about him. Now 
his men press forward, and again are driven back, as the 
Americans from barn and orchard throw themselves head- 
long into the struggle. The cracking of the musketry is 
incessant — the cries of the combatants can be heard, and all 
the while, above the din, the guns upon the heights keep up 
" the heaviest cannonading ever heard in America." And 
now beyond the rim of smoke the grenadiers are falling 
back in groups together, broken and confused. The Amer- 
icans have Monckton's body and are driving his men before 
them in retreat. Back up the sloping field — through the 
broken hedge-row — across tlie open ground — toward the 
woods beyond, faster and faster go the British — in confused 
mass, their ranks broken — their battalions shattered — their 
leader killed ! At last — at last — in open ground and hand 
to hand the ragged rebels have withstood and beaten the 
British grenadiers ! 

The day is now spent ; the American position can neither 
be turned nor taken ; the British left is threatened, and the 
whole army cooped up on the right — there is nothing for 
Clinton to do but to retire. Already his troops have left 
the woods in front of Stirling — the centre has repassed the 

* Statement of John Crolius, vide Dawson's Battles of the Amer- 
ican Revolution, vol. i. p. 409. 



MONMOUTH. 3^7 

ravine in front of Carr's House — the horsemen have turned 
their backs — the whole army is retreating. Down from the 
heights come tlie Americans in pursuit, and over the hot 
fields filled with the bodies of the dead. The word ffoes 
back to Steuben to bring up fresh men, for the enemy are 
retreating in confusion, and though Lee, then at the rear, 
declares that it cannot be true, the old veteran hastens to 
obey.* Before he has arrived the enemy are strongly posted 
on the ground beyond the ravine, and it is nearly seven 
o'clock. Washington prepares to resume the offensive, but 
both sides are tired out. And there through the sultry 
twilight the two armies lie Avatching each other, panting and 
exhausted, with only the defile between them.f The fields 
are strewn with coats, cartouch-boxes, and guns, the ground 
torn uj) with shot, the trees shattered with the marks of 
cannon-balls. The Americans hold the field of battle, but 
the British present a sullen and threatening front. The 
shadows creep out of the west — the steam rises from the 
hollows — the sun, like a ball of fire, has disappeared — the 
sultry twiliglit has faded — the hot night has begun. The 
dead lie where they fell, the wounded groan and gasp for 
air — in the woods, by the hedge-row, in the marsh, on the 
trodden field — and tlie tired living sink on their arms to 
sleep. Poor's sentinels, close to the enemy, are watching their 
right — Woodford's guarding their left. J Beneath a tall tree 
Washington and Lafayette, wrapped in a single cloak, lie 
down to rest.§ A solemn silence has followed the tumult 
of the day, and so the long hours of the night pass by. 
With the first streak of dawn the men are under arms. 

* Kapp's Life of Steuben, p. 163. 

f Correspondence of John Laurens, p. 198. 

X Washington to President of Congress, July 1. 

§ Lafayette's Memoirs, voL i. p. 54. 



388 MONMOUTH. 

Poor pushes his brigade across the ravine, Woodford ad- 
vances on the left, and the whole army awaits the signal 
for attack. But still no sound comes from the British 
camp. And look, for the sun is up, the fields in front are 
deserted; the cannon that frowned across the ravine at 
nightfall have disappeared ; the red-coats have vanished in 
the night. Four of their officers and forty men lie wounded 
in their empty camp. In the darkness, in the shadows of 
the night, the Royal army has stolen away.* The Battle 
of Monmouth has been fought and won ! 

During; the midnio-ht hours Clinton has withdrawn in 
stealth to join his baggage in the hills of Middletown. 
Without cavalry, pursuit is useless. The British reach 
Sandy Hook on the 30th, and Washington advances to 
Brunswick and White Plains. 

With the events that followed I have not to do. We all 
know the result: how the allied attack on Rhode Island was 
a failure, and how the British remained quiet in New York 
until December, when they departed to invade the South. 

But the excitements of the affair of Monmouth ceased 
not with the battle. The singular conduct of General Lee 
— his disrespectful letters to the Commander-in-Chief — his 
trial — the confused and conflicting testimony — his able and 
ingenious defence (often inconsistent and based on after- 
thought though it was) — his conviction and his sentence — 
gave rise to bitter controversy for years to come. Many 
were convinced that he was guilty of greater offences than 
those with which he had been charged ; some held him 
innocent, and even deserving of high praise. It is prob- 
able that he was in some degree innocent, and, at the same 
time, in greater measure guilty. It is clear that Wash- 

* Correspondence of John Laurens, p. 198. 



MONMOUTH. 389 

ington's order to attack left liim full discretion. It is 
evident that an engagement in the plain would have been 
unwise, and that I^ee's opinion of the position near the 
Court-House was a sounder one than Wayne's. It is prob- 
able that a well-managed retreat, drawing the British into the 
ground they finally occupied, and providing for the main 
army to receive them there, might have resulted in a battle 
disastrous to the enemy ; but nothing before, or during, or 
after his retreat suggests that any such plan had entered 
the mind of General Lee. He made no plan of action in 
advance. He communicated none to his brigadiers at any 
time. He withdrew his right in haste when the enemy 
approached, but gave his left no orders. He fell back to 
Carr's House in confusion, which he saw but did not try 
to check. His directions to those about him were contra- 
dictory ; to those at a distance he had none to give. His 
talk with Wikoif showed that he thought to make a stand, 
but knew neither when nor where to do it, and from the 
beginning to the end he sent no word to Washington of 
what was taking place. It was his fault that his command 
acted without a head ; it was his fault that the enemy had 
to be stopped at a disadvantage to get time to form the 
main army, even for defence; and if it was his plan to draw 
Clinton into a trap, as he asserted, and in the same breath 
denied, in his defence, he took no pains to make that plan 
successful or avert the disaster, which every moment, under 
his eyes, threatened to be more complete and overwhelming. 
And it is certain that his subsequent conduct cannot be 
excused. His behavior to Congress was undignified and 
weak ; his attacks on Washington ill-natured and con- 
temptible ; and his death — sudden and speedy as it was — 
was too tardy for his fame. 

The generation that knew Charles Lee was too much 



390 MONMOUTH. 

interested in the events in whicli lie was an actor to form an 
accnrate estimate of his character or sit in judgment on his 
life. The century that has intervened has cooled forever 
the passions that stirred the bosoms of his friends and 
enemies. We can judge him with calmness and impar- 
tiality ; for to us he is sim])ly a figure in our early history. 
And we know him better than our fathers did. They may 
have seen that, like Gates, he feared the British grenadiers, 
and could not persuade himself that the raw levies of Con- 
gress could stand up against them. They may have thought 
that, like others besides Gates, he was jealous of Washing- 
ton, and did not wish him victory. They may have sus- 
pected that he was annoyed that his advice had been over- 
ruled, and did not wish an attack, made in spite of it, to 
be successful. But they did not understand, in the face of 
many signs, that his heart was not in their struggle ; and they 
did not know, as we do, that when a prisoner in New York, 
on the 25th of March, 1777, this second in command of 
their armies had written and submitted to the British gen- 
eral an elaborate plan for the subjection of America. Side 
by side Avitli that paper, in Lee's unmistakable handwriting, 
and endorsed by Howe's secretary " Mr. Lee's Plan,"* the 
most elaborate defence of his conduct here at Monmouth 
falls broken to the ground. His motives may have been 
humane, his desire to prevent bloodshed earnest, his wish 
to reunite the mother-country and the colonies sincere; but 
the act was that of a traitor, and on this spot, identified 
with the last scene of his career, it is more charitable than 
just, to grant to a name and memory associated with such 
a deed, the mercy of oblivion. 

* Vide Treason of Charles Lee, by George II. Moore, New York, 
1860. 



MONMOUTH. 391 

The battle of the 28th of June was famous for many 
things. It was there that Charles Lee ended his career. 
It was there that the last great battle of the war was fought — 
from this to Yorktown the conflicts were on a smaller scale. 
And it was there that the American first showed himself a 
finished soldier. Courage he had exhibited enough already, 
but for the task which he had undertaken untrained valor was 
not enough. The audacious spirit which led the half-armed 
farmers of Massachusetts to seize the hill beyond Charles- 
town neck, at night, and throw up a rude breastwork within 
half a cannon-shot of a British fleet and army — the head- 
long daring of Arnold at Quebec and Behmus's Heights 
— the splendid gallantry of Christopher Greene behind 
the intrenchments at Red Bank — the intrepidity of Wayne 
leading his forlorn hope up the heights of Stony Point — the 
rash valor of Ethan Allen in the gates of Ticonderoga — 
the reckless bravery of Sergeant Jasper on the ramparts of 
Fort Moultrie, were but examples of an almost universal 
courage. But even this, splendid as it was, would not have 
availed alone through seven years of constant and often 
disastrous fighting. It was the calm and reflecting courage 
of the soldier trained in the school of trial — that could fall 
back without disorder, retreat without panic, endure suffer- 
ing without a murmur, and bear defeat with patience. It 
was the long suffering of Valley Forge bearing its fruit in 
the veteran-like courage of Monmouth, that saved Civil 
Liberty for both continents alike. 

And never were the soldierly qualities of Washington 
displayed more brilliantly than here. " I never saw the 
general to so much advantage," wrote Hamilton to Bouvdi- 
not; "his coolness and firmness were admirable."* "His 

* Lee Papers, vol. ii. p. 469. 



392 MONMOUTH. 

presence stopped the retreat/' said Lafayette ; " his dispo- 
sitions fixed the victory — his fine appearance on horseback, 
his calm courage, roused to animation by the vexations of 
the morning, gave him an air best calculated to arouse en- 
thusiasm."* The general voice of his countrymen confirmed 
the judgment of Hamilton Mdien he wrote: "America owes 
a great deal to General Washington for this day's work — 
a general rout, dismay, and disgrace would have attended 
the whole array in any other hands but his/'f 

From this time forward there waf§ no longer question who 
should be Commander-in-Chief. One after another his 
enemies disappeared — Lee was suspended from command, 
Conway returned to France, Mifflin left the service. Gates 
was overthrown at Camden. It was he alone who had kept 
the army together at Valley Forge — it was he alone who 
had saved the day at Monmouth — it is he alone that shall 
win the liberties of this struggling people. Soldier and 
statesman, for five-and-twenty years the central figure in his 
country's history, he shall appear to posterity as he did to 
Lafayette that day, who thought, as he watched the splendid 
figure dashing along the forming lines, that never before 
or since had he beheld " so superb a man."| The affair of 
Monmouth was in some respects a drawn battle. The re- 
port which Clinton wrote conveyed the idea that he had 
accomplished all he wished — beaten the provincials and 
continued on his way to take advantage of the moonlight, 
although the fact was, that the moon on that night was but 
four days old. Many in England recognized the truth 
about the battle, for we find Horace Walpole writing shortly 
afterwards, " The undisciplined courtiers speak of it in 

* Memoirs of Lafayette, vol. i. p. 34, foot-note. Bruxelles, 1837. 

f Lee Papers, vol. ii. p. 470. 

X Recollections of Geo. W. P. Custis, p. 221. 



MOXMO UTH. 393 

most dismal terms." " If I ffuess rio-ht, AVasliinoton Avas 
ill served, and thence, and l)y the violent heats, could not 
effect all his purposes ; but an army on a march through 
a hostile country that is twice beaten back — which is 
owned — Avhose men drop down with heat, have no hos- 
pitals, and were hurrying to a place of security, must have 
lost more than three hundred and eighty men ;"* and he 
adds later, with a sneer, " The Royal army has gained an 
escape. "t But the Americans claimed it with enthusiasm 
as a victory. It was true that the enemy had escaped. It 
was true that the fruits belonged rather to Clinton than to 
Washington, for the purpose of the one had failed, and that 
of the other been accomplished. But it was evident to all 
men that the days of the superiority of the British army 
were over. The Continentals had encountered the gren- 
adiers in the open field, and under disastrous circumstances, 
and had withstood and even repulsed them. After a whole 
day's fighting it had been the British who fell back, and 
the Americans who kept the field — and this time it had 
been the Rebels who had wished to renew the battle, and 
the Regulars who had refused it. The fact that the enemy 
had escaped made little difference to the enthusiastic Amer- 
icans. He had been beaten fairly, and that was glory 
enough. The Congress was in ecstasy — the Whigs jubilant. 
Wrote Washington himself, " From an unfortunate and 
bad beginning it turned out a glorious and happy day ."J 
" The behavior of the officers and men in general was such 
as could not easily be surpassed. Our troops, after the 
first impulse from mismanagement, behaved with more 

* Walpole to Rev. Win. Mason, August 14, 1778. Vide Corre- 
spondence, vol. ii. p. 13. 

t Walpole to Sir II. Mann. Ibid., vol. iii. p. 96. 
X Washington to his Brother : Sparks, vol. v. p. 431. 

26. 



394 MONMOUTH. 

spirit and moved with greater order than the British 
troops/' were the words of Hamilton. Said General Wil- 
liam Irvine, " It was a most glorious day for the American 
arms."* "Indeed/' wrote Ivnox, "it is very splendid. 
The caj)ital army of Britain defeated and obliged to retreat 
before the Americans, whom they despised so much." 
" The effects of the battle will be great and lasting. It 
Mall convince the enemy that nothing but a good consti- 
tution is wanting to render our army equal to any in the 
world."f As for Wayne, whose "good conduct and bravery/' 
in the words of Washington, " deserve particular commen- 
dation,"! he could not contain himself. " Tell those Phila- 
delphia ladies," he wrote to a friend, " who attended Howe's 
assemblies and levees, that the heavenly, sweet, pretty red- 
coats, the accomplished gentlemen of the guards and gren- 
adiers, have been humbled on the plains of Monmouth. 
The Knights of the Blended Roses and of the Burnino- 
Mount have resigned their laurels to rebel officers, who 
will lay them at the feet of those virtuous daughters of 
America, who cheerfully gave up ease and affluence in a 
city for liberty and peace of mind in a cottage."§ 

Such, my countrymen, is the history of this famous fight. 
The years that have gone by have left no trace of it upon 
your soil. The fields are changed, the morass has become 
a pleasant meadow, the woods have fallen, the ancient Par- 
sonage has gone. And they who struggled here, grenadier 
and Continental, veteran in scarlet and yeoman in rags, 
have all passed away forever ; they who fought against us 
and they who fought to make us free, old and young alike, 

* Hamilton to Boudinot. Vide Lee Papers, vol. ii. p. 470. 

t Life of Knox, pp. 57-9. 

X Washington to President of Congress, July L 

§ Moore's Life of Wayne, pp. C4-5. 



MONMOUTH. 395 

great man and Immble, he whose fitting sepulchre is his 
country's heart and they who, in unmarked graves in yonder 
field, have long since mouldered into dust — the nameless 
dead, who died for you and me. Father, son, and grand- 
child, they have descended to the grave, and of all that 
knew and loved them in their prime, not one survives. 
The peaceful plough passing through your fields may un- 
cover rusted ball, or broken bayonet, or mouldering skull, 
or crumbling skeleton. But the wild fury of the fight has 
gone ; the struggling host has vanished ; the loud-mouthed 
cannon are forever dumb. Another sound is rising in the 
land. It comes from town and hamlet, from marts of com- 
merce and from haunts of trade, from workshop and from 
forge, from field and mine, from forest, hill, and stream. 
It tells of joy and gladness, of content and peace, of well- 
stored granaries and happy homes. It tells of a people 
virtuous and free, a government rooted in the hearts of 
men. It is a nation's prayer, a people's cry, a song of 
Hope and Prophecy. 

And from these hills to-day a voice goes forth to meet 
it. Americans, it seems to say, as with your fathers shall it 
be with you. Faith, Courage, Fortitude, Virtue, and Love 
of Country can win you battles now as well as then. Defeat 
may still lead the way to Victory and suffering to Happiness. 
And ^vdien the night cometh and the shadows fall, remember 
that the sun that went down at Valley Forge was the same 
that arose above the Heights of Freehold. 



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